Time Without Dawns Or Dusks
by Ripper101
Summary: Sequel to 'Bond of Sun and Moon' and 'The Cosmic Equation'. Continues with the warnings of rape, angst, mpreg and slash. Also references sadism and incest. War continues leaving Jareth in danger. What's an eighteen year old mortal to do?
1. End of an Era

Author's Note: Well, well, well, darlings... and so we're back... again! And everything, just like it always is, is not good. After all, there's a war! And the Underground is a harsh place where a mysterious person is manipulating the strings that hold that realm tenuously to reality.

Author's Note 2: 'Hringer' means 'secret'. The 'g' sound is the same as in 'syringe'.

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"Hoggle, how long has it been since Jareth left?" Toby asked, wandering around the throne room as if he were looking for something he couldn't find. And Hoggle feared that if it were the case, Toby could only be looking for one thing.

"For the last time, I don't knows when he's coming back; you don't knows when he's coming back. But he's only been gone three months!"

Toby stopped and looked at the dwarf with bewildered hurt, blue eyes big and pleading. Naturally Hoggle wouldn't know about the very real physical ache that throbbed just under his ribs where the formal binding had taken hold, but he could at least be a little sympathetic! And for all his natural pride- and the fact that he seemed to be in charge now that Jareth was gone- the mortal really did miss his husband.

Hoggle caved in. "There, there, Toby. I knows you misses him, but you can't do nothing about it. He had to go."

"But it's a battle," Toby muttered, throwing himself into the throne and feeling even more unsettled when he smelt faint traces of pine and smoke, "He could be killed, Hoggle. And what'll I do then? I have Arradine to think about now; it's not just me. There's a reason that Gringol sent those reinforcements out and there's a reason that Jareth can't or won't mind speak with me. Hell, even the dreams are gone! What if he's already dead?"

Hoggle paled. "Uh, perhaps we shouldn't think about him dying, eh? It's bad luck for one thing. Anyways, you would know if he was dead; that bond thingie would go crazy."

"It would?"

Hoggle nodded his big head solemnly and hoped he wasn't lying too much. He had no real idea about bonds, never having given them a second thought, and he certainly hadn't spent sleepless nights reading up about them.

Toby sighed and flung a hand over his eyes, cushioning his head onto the rounded rim of the enormous stone seat. Vaguely he wondered how many Goblin Kings had sat where he'd sat, and what manner of things had been decided in this chair. He'd read some rather interesting books lately; ones that told him that this room had been originally used by the Kings and their advisers. A disturbingly small paragraph made mention of Jareth's cold decision to kill most of his advisers and then dismiss the survivors, electing to rule by himself with the official help of simpletons picked up randomly on the streets of the City, generally too drunk or too stupid to care about the King's decisions. Under Jareth alone had the Goblin Kings become so autocratic.

"You're right," he said slowly, "I won't talk about it. He's too experienced at this game to lose."

Hoggle patted his knee comfortingly and went back out into the fresh summer's haze. He was more troubled than he'd care to admit, but he wasn't about to babble about it. He certainly wouldn't tell Toby any of it, but the news from the Flat Plains was not so good this time. Goblins were fierce fighters and Jareth was a natural strategist, but there were rumours of some kind of disease in the army. A goblin had arrived only recently in the City, claiming to have run away because the goblin soldiers were dying by the score in a matter of days. That, and the fairies had blocked communication lines, throwing a magical barrier around the plains so that nothing and no one could get through.

Well, Jareth should certainly be able to get through, but from what Hoggle had heard- and he heard plenty when working so inconspicuously in the Castle's gardens- the Goblin King was ill himself. Nothing had been heard from him for many days.

Nobody would tell Toby, of course, though Hoggle suspected that that had nothing to do with a desire to keep Toby from worrying. Gringol was the only one who was actually interested in helping the boy- from guilt towards his bond mate probably- but the others had used Jareth's absence to wrest control away from the mortal. Jealousy was such an ugly thing to see. The dwarf could only thank his lucky jewels that Sir Didymus and Ludo had returned to keep an eye on things with him.

Two months later, on a hot summer's day, a goblin came tearing through the Castle and demanding to see the King's consort. Toby had been spending some time with his daughter but came out immediately, a frown on his face at the urgency.

"My Lord, the- the army..."

Toby impatiently patted the little creature on her back as she tried to get her breath back.

"My L- lord, the army has returned."

"What? The army? The goblin army?"

The little thing nodded and pointed behind her to the door.

Toby handed Arradine over to her nurse and bade her take the child to his room. "I don't want her there in case," he muttered. He called for the guards, not really knowing what to expect. With any luck, the goblin would be right and his husband was home. With a little less luck, the goblin would be right and his husband would never come home at all. With no luck at all, everyone was dead and the goblin was mistaken.

The enormous double doors to the Castle's entrance were thrown open, people gathering behind the guards and in the above windows to watch the tense situation.

A goblin Lady in a scarlet dress came forward. "My Lord," she said sweetly, "Perhaps you should go inside. Let us handle this for you; you should go to your child."

Blue eyes glittered fire and ice down at her and the goblin noblewoman backed away. The mortal was easily manipulated, but all knew not to cross him when he had that look on his face.

The rag-tag group of goblin soldiers were limping slowly towards the Castle. None called to them; none went to greet them. More goblins from the City were following at a safe distance, their loud boisterousness disappeared in the sobriety. A deafening silence screeched over tensed nerves, daring anyone to break it with unspeakable consequences.

The group stopped at the foot of the steps and stared fearfully up at the King's bond mate. "We lost," one said heavily.

Pandemonium broke out and Toby almost fell over at the implications of those words. The bond! The bond had been telling him that something was wrong for months now! How had he not realized it until now? Why else would Jareth not be here with the remainder of his army?

A voice rose above the rest, shouting from the crowd of City goblins behind the soldiers- "Can't be! We always win!"

"Well, we didn't this time," a soldier yelled back.

"But we sent reinforcements."

The arguments continued back and forth.

Toby watched them almost with a feeling of being back in a bubble. He couldn't draw breath; really he couldn't. And Arradine! How was he to raise her alone? How could this happen so soon after everything had started to come right again? "The King," he finally choked out, "Where is he?"

Silence. No one said a word as all eyes turned to the pretty mortal on the steps, highlighted by the sun and the shadows of the Castle. One golden hand was pressed to his chest as if it hurt to breathe, the fingers trembling as they pressed absently to where the bond ached and throbbed its warning.

The soldiers fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable and unwilling to answer. "He got, uh..."

"OPEN YOUR FAT MOUTH AND TELL ME!"

"He got captured, my Lord. Two weeks ago, it was," the goblins babbled, backing away as Toby leveled a crystal at them.

"Two weeks?" The crystal lowered slightly.

"He- he were ill and the fairies tooked him, they did."

The crystal shattered on the step. Ill! Jareth had been ill and captured and he hadn't known!

He barely registered it when Hoggle came running towards the Castle. "Toby! Toby, get out of here, quick! The fairies are coming!"

Goblins began to scream and shout in fright and disbelief, turning to stampede their way like frightened sheep back to the City. Toby blinked in shock, swaying where he stood. The fairies? The soldiers threw down what remained of their weapons and armour and refused to fight any more even when one of those damned idiots that had slithered his way into advising Toby declared his intention to lead the last remaining troops to battle.

Hoggle gestured hurriedly to something behind him. Toby blinked again, seeing gingery red fur as his vision swam out of focus. Somehow he knew that Ludo was carrying him back into the Castle, that Sir Didymus was riding his valiant Ambrosias before them and knocking on people's knees to get them out of the way. He heard Hoggle telling him that he had no time to faint.

"Get up!" the dwarf was insisting, "You needs to get up!"

Arradine! Oh God, his daughter!

Toby scrambled down, almost falling as he made a run for his rooms. His daughter was there, and the medallion. He had no time for this! He had to get them out of here. Not for nothing had he been reading the books in the library on the traditions of war in the Underground. He would be killed; his little girl would be killed. And that tiny baby girl was currently the heir to the Goblin Kingdom; the medallion was her birthright.

He stumbled in at the door only to find that the nurse had abandoned the baby, likely running away in her fear though the Gods only knew where she hoped to find protection. The fairies were practical and cruel people, just as the goblins would have been had the positions been reversed. Toby would have liked to believe that Jareth would not have killed Amarild, but... no! He was not going to think of Jareth.

Arradine let out a soft whimper as he scooped her up. He grabbed up the blankets and a quick change of clothes for her. He could use magic, but anyone with a grain of magical knowledge would sense the distinctive power that he used. And he had no hope of controlling it enough to be discreet. Jareth had never taught him how.

"Come, sweetheart, let's get you out of here," he soothed, holding her against him with one hand while the other hunted through the few trinkets in his drawers. A ring, a necklace... a few ridiculously overpriced gifts from people who seemed to think he liked flashy jewels.

The medallion glowed in his hands as he yanked it out from its deceptively simple case. He hurriedly buried it in the blankets with his child and then Hoggle was at the door, telling him to leave everything and come with him. He stared around wildly for one more instant, hating to leave, hating to say goodbye.

For just as instant, he turned to the mirror and saw a mirage of mismatched eyes, gone as soon as it had arrived. He left, running carefully down the hallways with his daughter in his arms. Hoggle took him down to the kitchens.

Jamelia and Kyfrem were there, shoving a table away from a door he didn't remember seeing there before. "In here, my Lord," Kyfrem panted, "Take the tunnel and don't stop until you get into the forests. Try not to let anyone see you."

"Aren't you coming, Kyfrem?"

"Toby, we has to go."

Toby nodded and left. Apparently Hoggle knew where he was going because the dwarf was taking them through twists and turns that would have confused anyone else. Toby couldn't see very well, and Arradine was upset and crying. He had to magically send her into sleep to stop her from making so much noise.

Countless times one or the other of them would slip in the damp earth, or would bump into a wall, but eventually they emerged into daylight, the afternoon sun glimmering through the thick foliage of the fierey's forest, long fingers stroking over the moss-covered stones and tree trunks.

"This way," Hoggle gasped.

Sir Didymus had been grumbling to himself for many minutes now. "But why must we fly?" he complained, "The battle lies with the Castle. We should give our lives to protect our kingdom, surely."

"No," Hoggle hissed, "I ain't giving my life for no one. 'Cepting maybe Sarah... and Toby... and Arradine. But that's it! And I wouldn't do it lightly for those three either. Those fairies will kill me if they sees my face, and they don't likes scary monsters like Ludo neither.

"We may well have to give our lives for Sir Toby," Sir Didymus said soberly, shooting a worried look at the stunned mortal walking beside them with the blank expression of shock on his face, "The immediate family of the defeated ruler is always executed after the battle is won. It is tradition."

"Ludo help Toby," Ludo insisted.

"Yes, yes, brother Ludo, we will all do our very best to save Sir Toby from any harm. We swore so to Lady Sarah and once more to our King. We have a sacred duty to him."

"Then shut up," Hoggle sighed, "We're coming to where the fieries is."

It felt like hours to the mortal as they crept through the thick growth, heading further and further between the trees. He had never felt so unbelievably tired in his life. His chest ached, his head ached and his entire body felt like lead. The world around him was dulled and haze-blinkered, seemingly coated with a sort of mist that stopped sound and vision from actually impacting on his senses. His daughter weighed a thousand pounds as far as he was concerned, and he was struggling to keep her safe and secure while holding himself up.

Day lengthened into evening and night fell. Arradine was awake and Toby was softly crooning to her to make her more comfortable. As it was she made far too much noise; Hoggle wouldn't say so, but he could see the dwarf shooting desperate looks at the child. He tried to keep her as quiet as he could.

They seemed to be bunking down in some kind of cave. Toby took careless note of where they were as he entered it. Ludo gave a quiet roar and a rock fell into place at the entrance, not only blocking them in but blocking everyone else out. Thankfully the mortal relinquished his burden to Ludo's gentle paws, trusting the creature implicitly not to harm his child.

For a few minutes they sat in silence, Toby with his knees drawn to his chest as he stared intently at the flames, and the others with an uncomfortable lack of anything meaningful to say.

Finally Sir Didymus cleared his throat. "Sir Toby, you must not lose hope. Very likely the King is on his way now to stop this invasion."

Blue eyes looked up, deadened and confused. "Then why are we running away?" Toby grated out, "He's dead, isn't he? And he promised he wouldn't do that. He said he'd be right back. He said he'd keep me safe. This is my fault; all my fault!"

Hoggle looked perplexed as he glanced at the others to see if they knew what the mortal was speaking of. Toby's fault? How so? Naturally, had he known about the rape... but that was a subject that Jareth had kept close to himself. Jareth had hated the dishonour of not being able to protect his own bond mate. "He didn't want you nowhere near there," he said awkwardly, "Said so often enough, he did. No reason that you should feel guilty."

Toby buried his face in his arms on top of his knees and shook his blond head. "What am I to do now," came the muffled plea, "Where do I go? They'll kill my daughter and I can't let them."

"Go back?" Ludo suggested, "Aboveground?"

"No. Arradine is Jareth's child. I can't take her away from the Underground. She's his heir and if she's ever needed... well, she'll need to be here, won't she?" He seemed almost to be hunched into a small bundle of cloth and bone, the stark lines of his body thrown into disjointed relief against the uneven wall. "Where do I go?"

"The elves," Hoggle revealed reluctantly, "Jareth said to take you to the elves."

Toby's head snapped up, blue eyes watchful as the dark blond brows pulled into a slight frown. "Jareth said? When?" he demanded, "You spoke to him? Why didn't you tell me?"

His voice was rising and it shocked Arradine, making her gurgle a little as she waved her fists aimlessly in the air. She was only six months old; not old enough to know what was happening to her. Certainly not old enough to know why her father was shouting.

Hoggle shook his big head and made hushing gestures with his gnarled hands. "Shush," he pleaded, "I hasn't spoken to him since he left; I promise. He told me before, said in case anything happened I was to take you and the baby to the elves in the Hringer glades."

"The who?"

"Hringer."

Toby sighed and sat down. He thought about it. "I thought they were all dead," he said at last, "How do we know we can trust them?"

The dwarf shrugged. "Lord Pelinlas' daughter is one of them; she won't do nothing to harm you. Nor will the other two."

Toby nodded. Reaching across, he took the whinging child back from Ludo and absent-mindedly put her to feed. The others hurriedly looked away and he realized, with a start that Jareth was no longer with him to keep the un-pleasantries from him. He blushed and settled back into the shadows where he could keep himself hidden to some extent. But for the first time since the birthing, he was ashamed of his child.


	2. The Escher Room

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own anything in these stories apart from the new characters and the plot line. I never have owned anything relating, or bearing a resemblance to anything relating, to David Bowie.

Author's Note: Warning for ADULT SITUATIONS! Please do not read this fiction if you do not like slash, torture, domination games or anything else of that ilk.

**_Blah_** is a simultaneous happening, usually to a character important to the plot.

'_Blah_' is thought pattern.

"Blah" is vocal speech.

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_**He blinked as he opened his eyes, adjusting them to the darkness of the room. He seemed to be lying on a bed softer than the one the soldiers had originally placed him on. Blankets covered him with warmth and comfort. **_

_**And those soft eyes were gazing down at him. **_

_**He wanted to ask where he was. He wanted to know who the other male was. And why was he lying in a place he could not recognize? What was going on? And for the love of the Gods, why couldn't he remember anything?**_

"**_Well, my pet? Are you awake?"_**

_**Without thought he nodded. And the soft eyes began to darken ever so slightly. **_

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The trees were dense and thick where the four rested. Enormous trunks blocked the light, seemingly as old as age itself. The glow that characterized most of the magic-touched Underground was strengthened here, making the world seem bright and shadowy all at the same time. Strange blooms of deep colours littered the cracks and crevices of the forest, the velvet-soft moss the perfect protection for a child hidden amongst the rocks.

Toby watched Arradine gurgle up at a ray of sunshine. Sunshine... was that his daughter's heritage? He hoped so. And yet, he craved to see some part of his husband preserved in their child, even knowing that with the misfortunes that they were certain to meet in their life ahead she might not be able to fight her urges to darkness. He wouldn't wish his child to that. And yet, to have his husband back no matter how indirectly...

"My Lord?"

The mortal blinked and looked up. Sir Didymus was standing over him with a fruit in his hands. Sighing, Toby accepted it and ate, absently reminding himself to chew with every bite. Eating was so tiresome; if he hadn't been breastfeeding he would have stopped long ago. Why was he alive in any case? Shouldn't he have died when Jareth did? Or was their bond not strong enough to do that?

"Thank you," he murmured, throwing the seed away and leaning back against the tree. "I'm sorry to be so silly, but could I sleep for a few moments?"

"Of course, my Lord," Sir Didymus agreed, sketching a small bow as he backed away, "I shall awaken you when the time decrees."

Toby nodded and shut his eyes. There was no reason to remain alive. He should have died.

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_**He allowed himself to be lulled back to sleep, held safe in this warrior's arms. It was so dark as it was, and he was just so tired. His body felt sore and for some reason there was an aching in his chest- just there, over the heart. The vague sensation that he was forgetting something spun around and around in his mind. What was he forgetting?**_

_"**Don't think so much, pet." The soft voice was so soothing, sliding mellifluously into his brain with the deftest of touches. Was the other male a wizard? He pulled away slightly to look up at him but the full lips only smiled as strong arms pulled him closer. "No wizard, my dearest. But I shall tell you all later. For now, sleep like the good pet you are going to be."**_

_**Pet? That sounded strange in his ears. He timidly looped his arms around the other's neck and held on. **_

_**Sleep came far too easily, washing the emptiness away with a kind hand. **_

_**He wanted to die. **_

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"Why'd you let him sleep?" Hoggle moaned, shaking the mortal by the shoulders, "Don't you know it's bad for him?"

The little dog looked tragically upset as he looked from the boy to the dwarf. Arradine was whimpering slightly, obviously hungry again and not quite soothed enough by the gentle rocking motion of Ludo's big paws. Ambrosias sat placidly to the side and panted.

"Well, how was I to know?" Didymus protested, "He looked tired."

"Never mind now. Just help me wake him up."

Together they shook him and tapped on his cheek and called into his ear. Toby only shifted and drifted back into an uncomfortable dream. It was clear what the dreams were about because every so often a certain name would be whispered in a voice so low that even Sir Didymus had trouble hearing it. They persisted.

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_**There was a mist around him. It coated everything in sight and made everything seem twice as mysterious. **_

_**He tried to look through it, waving his hands to move it out of his line of sight. It began to work slowly. He was aware of a presence in the room. He looked to his right, sensing it call to him. What did it want? What was it? **_

_**His chest still hurt in this dream, just in the patch of skin over his heart, a sharp pain like a stiletto stabbing between his ribs. He rubbed absently at the spot, moving towards that presence. Someone was upset; he could hear a name being called. Who was it? Who was calling whom? Was that someone he should know? And who was this someone calling to?**_

_**He strained forward, trying to hear something or see something; something he knew should be important even though it didn't feel it. **_

_**The mist was moving. He sensed that he was almost through it. He kept going, shivering slightly as the icy coldness touched his body. He was barefoot, and the floor was worn stone beneath the soles of his feet. He found he was limping slightly, unable to walk because the muscles of his legs would not respond as they once had. Or had they always been this way? He couldn't remember, dammit!**_

_**The ground fell away beneath him and he almost lost his balance. **_

**_A staircase?_** **_Going down?_**

_**He followed. **_

_**The Escher Room! Why was that important? There were staircases piled on staircases and all of them were beautiful, twisting and turning through the Castle like... the Castle? The Castle of what? Of where? What Castle?**_

_**He couldn't breathe in here. The air was stuck in his lungs, almost solid like the blood frozen in his veins. He couldn't breathe... And then he saw It! **_

_**A flash of blond hair and somehow he knew the mouth was wide and sweet, and that the bright golden hair smelled of oranges and soap. He reached out. The key! It was something he needed to escape this mist. He could feel the stone scream beneath his feet as something yanked him back and away.**_

_**He woke up with a cry of fear, the blow across his face still stinging as hard, dark eyes stared down at him. **_

_"**Trying so hard to escape, pet?" That voice was so familiar. He couldn't remember where he had heard it before but he pulled himself to the other side of the bed and stared fearfully at the tall creature stalking him. "I think I need to remedy that."**_

_**He hadn't moved an inch when a hand clamped around his neck and hard fingers pressed down on a sensitive spot that exploded into a wave of pain behind his eyes and flung him into blissful oblivion. **_

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Toby woke up with a start, a burning pain at the back of his head. Dazed and confused, he hit out, catching Didymus on the nose and landing a kick to Hoggle's stomach. Both went rolling away and lay there groaning. Ludo lowed at him, bringing him back to reality as Arradine finally gave way to full-sized screaming.

Still unable to form a coherent thought, the noise made him react instinctively, pushing him to his feet and towards his child. Gasping slightly, he took her from Ludo and rocked her, muttering any words that came to mind in a calming voice. Arradine wouldn't stop crying! Why wouldn't she just shut up?

"I think she needs changing," Hoggle gasped, rubbing his stomach where a bruise was no doubt forming.

Toby shook his head to clear the ringing and put her down on the grass for a moment as he undid her nappy. Pine and Smoke; everything in the dream had smelt of pine and smoke! Jareth was alive? That was certainly not possible, he decided, because if Jareth were alive then he would not have left his Kingdom to be conquered and his family to be killed. The half-goblin was simply not capable of being that cold.

_'He killed those noblemen,'_ his mind reminded him, a nasty inflection in the words telling him that he was only so far from being one of those unfortunates, _'He doesn't care for anyone else one way or another.'_

_'No,'_ he promised himself sternly, _'Jareth is not capable of that! He would never have simply left for no reason at all.'_

_'Ah, but what if he had a reason?'_

_'There was no reason!'_

He picked up the baby and settled her down in the grass and tearing up a shirt, not noticing the incongruity of the scene any more. His mother had told him to keep Arradine clean for her safety, the same for the nappies he was using on her. Wash them out as soon as possible unless he wanted her to get a rash in such a sensitive area. Toby wiped the cloth off with a handful of leaves and stowed it away for the first free moment near a body of clean water. He didn't really have a laundry service anywhere in the wilds, now did he? Bloody hell, but the only cloth he could get hold of was the second shirt he had brought for himself!

Toby gave it gladly, but was at his wits' end. How was he supposed to do this? Feel these things? He was a man and men didn't care for babies in this kind of way. Wrapping them in shirts to keep them dry. Breastfeeding them for food. Spending every waking moment thinking about the baby and what she needed from her 'mother'.

_'And you wonder why he left?'_

"Shut up," he snapped to no one in particular, feeling the unease scrape over his nerves. He had felt Jareth in that dream, had felt him approach. Until that wall of magic had blocked him from going further. He had called to him, crying to him to come back like a child, like the God-awful whimpering child he was. An image of the Goblin King had walked down those staircases and stared at him as if his presence was completely unexpected. How dared he?

He automatically picked her in his arms, rocking her and knowing that he hadn't eaten enough in the last few days to provide enough sustenance. He had to ask for more food because she would be hungry soon. The horrible thought that he was drying up naturally gave him a headache; he preferred to blame the lack of food and not his own traitorous body.

No, he agreed, pushing the morbid thoughts away. Jareth would not have done something like that. His imagination was only working overtime.

"Uh, Toby?"

"Just a minute, Hoggle," he sighed, "Arra just needs a cuddle for a second."

"That's not it," the dwarf gulped from behind him.

"She's a pretty child," a soft voice said behind him, "Her life force weaves an interesting pattern around her."

Toby spun, holding his daughter close with one hand as he pulled a crystal from the air with the other. The humorous grey eyes that stared at him were welcoming and unafraid. The woman stepped forward, slender and supple as she came to him and knelt with him in the grass.

"The consort of the Goblin King," she guessed, smiling into his eyes, "I bid you welcome to the borders of the Hringer mountains."

Chestnut hair threaded into a complex braid down her back and the tips of two sweetly pointed ears lay flat against the side of her head. The grey eyes laughed with all the abandon of the wind on a mountaintop and Toby gave a start as long, tanned fingers reached out to stroke his child's downy head.

"You're an elf," he blurted out.

She nodded. "Gwenél is my name. My father you know as Pelinlas, last Lord of the Elves left to the Underground. His spirit bids you welcome too."

Toby cast a cautious look around him, more than a little freaked out to think that a dead elf was still hovering somewhere in the near vicinity.

"Come, Lord Toby," the elf maiden smiled, "We have not the time to waste. Settle your child for another minute more and then follow me. Our journey will last two days before safety is reached."

Toby looked down at Arradine, who surprisingly enough was staring meekly at the elf walking away with large blue eyes. The blush that had crept up his neck from the reference to mothering began to calm down. The lady had spoken as if it were the most natural thing for a man to do. Perhaps elves had the same custom? He really didn't want to think about that.


	3. Time

"This," Toby muttered, "Is weird."

Considering he was currently staring down from a mountain pass at a lush glade filled nothing, Gwenél decided that he had that right. Nevertheless, she guided him down the slopes to the two figures that awaited them at the glade's edge, still as the rocks and silent.

No elf was quite given to extravagant displays of loud noise. Even extreme emotions were only kept for the occasions when the emotion transcended all good sense. Hence, Gwenél greeted her friends with a chaste embrace and a small smile that touched her eyes more than her mouth.

"My Lord," she introduced, "Brethiliaur, my clan mate, and Maegorod. We bid you welcome."

"Um, thank you," Toby stammered, bowing slightly to the two males as was the custom in the Underground. The last time he had unconsciously given his hand to be shaken, the poor goblin had looked at it and slowly backed away.

"My Lord, we have prepared rooms for your arrival. And for that of your attendants as well," Brethiliaur welcomed.

The fire-blond found himself being ushered towards the other end of the glade without anything more than that subtle hint. The baby stirred in his arms and he petted her quietly as he wondered whether they would despise him for sitting on the grass and screaming in frustration. What the hell was going on? Why did these three seem as if they expected him? And where was he exactly?

"Your questions will be answered," Maegorod whispered, red hair loose and long over his shoulders.

Brethiliaur nodded, his own dark braid a stern counterpart to his friend's airy delicacy. Gwenél alone looked a strong combination of the two, for now that Toby saw her in strong sunlight her hair was deep brown with reddish streaks through it, not the rich chestnut that he had originally thought.

Toby smiled politely at the reassurance but still held back slightly. Even the two days journey with Gwenél had not given him much time to spend with her. The elf maiden had seemed to spend an inordinately large amount of time roaming around them before appearing at regular intervals to guide them on the right path. The inability to pin her down and talk to her made it very difficult for the mortal to trust. After all, he had trusted a lot of people with a lot of things, and his life was still turning into a dramatic comedy.

Brethiliaur suddenly dropped gracefully to one knee and whistled- a high, soft whistle like the call of a bird- and stroked hard, calloused fingers over a patch of earth. Toby's senses gave a heightened throb of sensation as he felt the imperceptible tremble of the earth beneath his feet. Through Jareth's power base he heard the answering call of the earth, silent and tremulous though it was. He was hardly surprised when a large hole appeared.

"Let me guess, you want me down there?" he asked tiredly.

Gwenel took his arm and propelled him forward. "Your delay leaves us in danger, my Lord. They look for you and the child. Beneath the earth is safety."

Safety? The word tasted like bile. Toby shut his mouth around the instinctive urge to gag and stepped into the hole. The feeling of air and darkness. Working quickly, he dredged up enough magic to cushion his fall, landing neatly on his feet as he floated down the last few seconds. Seconds later, Hoggle tumbled to his side, followed by Sir Didymus and Ambrosius.

"Where's Ludo?" he frowned.

He looked up. High above he saw his enormous friend peering sorrowfully down at them all.

"He's too big," Hoggle explained, dusting himself off with a gruff look on his face. Apparently elves and their ways were not a comfortable option for the dwarf. "He's staying up there."

"Egads, my Lady, where are we?"

Gwenel smiled in amusement at the choice of words, placing a hand on Didymus' head as she motioned to the archway. Runes of some kind were carved above it into the earth and even the tree roots that broke the perfect symmetry of the arrangement seemed superbly placed.

"The Place of Time," she murmured, "Constructed many centuries ago in anticipation of the last days of the elves. It is our hideaway, our place of refuge when death draws near."

No one said a word as the two males silently joined the unlikely party.

Arradine cooed something up at her father and gurgled, making Maegorod laugh and reach to touch her cheek. The baby appeared similarly enchanted, catching the brown finger and biting it. Lately, Toby had begun to wonder if she was teething. He made a decision to ask his mother and then realized that there was no way to contact her. He could not use the amounts of magic necessary to project himself Aboveground, and he certainly couldn't go Aboveground because then he'd them all in danger too. Jareth had no problems going Aboveground and neither did his goblins; perhaps Amarild and her fairies had similar powers.

"Come, my Lord. Food and rest awaits you now."

Taking a deep breath, the mortal nodded and followed.

It felt like time itself had stopped beyond the arched gates. Rounded walls of earth tunnelled like a rabbit's warren, unadorned and mindful of the growing things that shared the soil. Open doorways were everywhere, leading to rooms and suites that were unused and empty. Some contained basic furniture; most did not. For all that, there was a simple elegance about the place.

Toby was taken to his room and bidden to rest. Hoggle and Sir Didymus were led away as well. Arradine seemed to have made up her mind to spend more time with Maegorod for she would have nothing but that he take her with him on his journey to settle Ambrosius in the room beside the kitchen.

So Toby looked at the bed.

It was big enough. It was comfortable enough. It was inviting enough. But he couldn't sleep.

Dreams had begun to plague him, haunting him when he woke up with images he could not remember. He didn't like not knowing what was so awful in those dreams. He didn't like knowing that he could not see the presence that struggled into his dreams and out of them without his knowledge or his consent. He didn't like the bitter taste that came with that presence, a taint that somehow reminded him forcibly of just how vulnerable he was. Indeed, he had once thought that he would be less vulnerable once his child was born and no one could hold her to ransom simply by holding a knife against the fragile covering of his stomach. But he was rethinking that thought- it seemed so easy to imagine someone snatching her as a defenceless baby. And he would still have no options.

"You are thinking."

The rough voice startled him, snapping him out of a tired daze and back into reality. "Pardon?" he asked, turning to face the elf that stood in his open doorway. Actually, there was no door, just a curtain that he had yet to pull closed.

Maegorod smiled and entered; in his arms Arradine was asleep. Without a word he placed her in the small cot against the wall before turning back to the mortal. "Sit, my Lord. You are tired."

Toby looked at the bed and shuddered. Oh, he was tired all right! But to sleep would mean those dreams; and sleep was never enough! He seemed to constantly feel drained, needing sleep like some urgent drug that he was addicted to. He turned away from the bed and began walking aimlessly around the room.

Maegorod watched him meander, watched him trail his fingers over the walls and the shelves, restless and caged. "You are not tired?" he probed.

Blue eyes looked up. Hazel eyes looked sympathetically at him. And for once the eyes were level, and not looking up or down to him. "I am," Toby answered slowly, "But I'm not ready to sleep. Not yet. Maybe later."

"Would you prefer to eat?" Maegorod offered. He did not know the eating habits of mortals or even of the Goblin King- commonly known as an eccentric- and who was to say but that there were certain customs to this kind of thing? He hoped, at all events, not to insult anyone. But the young one looked so sad!

"I'm not hungry, thanks. Tell me, where exactly are we?"

Maegorod looked surprised as he pushed his red hair off his face and then smoothed the brown tunic he wore. "In the Hringer Glade," he replied, "A secret place sacred to the elves. The Hringer Mountains you have crossed. By now you surely know that not all those mountains are real, that many are illusions to discourage travellers. And you are in the Place of Time."

"I know that. Gwenél explained that. But where are we? Where is the Hringer Glade? Are we in the Goblin Kingdom? Are there any villages or settlements around here? What protection is there here that Jareth wanted this to be my place of safety? And..." he stopped short. The question had almost fallen out.

The elf male smiled. "And where is the Goblin King?" he completed, "I did wonder when that question would surface."

"I guess you think I'm being stupid."

"Not at all, my Lord. It is a valid question, and one that needs answering. The truth is that we do not know. We have not attempted a scrying yet, and there is no new information beyond the knowledge that he is a prisoner of the Faerie Royalty. His exact location is a secret."

"I see." The Goblin King's bond mate digested that fact and rubbed at his eyes. They were beginning to close in spite of himself and once already had he yawned rudely in Maegorod's face.

"Why do you not sleep, my Lord?"

"Maegorod," Toby sighed, "Would you please stop calling me 'Lord'? It's been a long twenty days and I really can't handle that as well. Just call me Toby, okay? The 'Lord' thing was just Jareth's stupid pride again."

"You feel anger at your bond mate?"

"That he got himself killed? Yeah, I'm a little pissed off. He promised! And look around- do you see him standing anywhere here? No. And do you know why? Because he broke his promise and got himself killed, that's why."

The elf laughed and guided them both to the bed, pushing Toby down onto it and sitting beside him. Apart from that, there was a remarkable lack of contact, Toby found. The other male didn't even move unless it was necessary.

"I do not believe anyone would break a promise of that magnitude, Toby." The name sounded strange in the slightly exotic accent. "And he is not dead. Were he dead, the fairies would make no hesitation to prove the evidence with a public viewing. It is the custom, if the monarch's dead body is taken in battle, for it to be interred before the people of his or her nation before burial. A barbaric custom, but a custom nonetheless."

Toby winced. Even the thought of his husband lying cold and dead seemed to be wrong. It made a mockery out of everything Jareth was, making him some spectacle to be gawked at while he wasn't in control. "Then why won't he come back? He won't even speak to me mentally."

Maegorod looked surprised, but after blinking his hazel eyes in silent contemplation of the thought, he shook his head apologetically. "It is most likely that he either does so out of choice, or because he is forcibly restrained. Can you not feel which it is?"

"How am I to do that?"

"Do you not know how to feel magic?"

"A little," Toby admitted, "But not much. Jareth never got the chance to teach me and there was no one else, really. I was pregnant or recovering from the pregnancy for most of our time together. He said it could harm the child if it went wrong."

"He was right," Maegorod agreed, "But there are other ways. You should share an awareness of the other in your unconscious. The time of sleep is often a chance to communicate between bond mates."

"No!"

"No?"

"No. There are reasons."

"You are afraid." Hazel eyes narrowed. "What is it? What troubles you about sleep? Or do the dreams hold the danger?"

Toby paled and fluffed the pillow, wishing he could bite his tongue out for giving himself away so spectacularly. "The dreams. There's something or someone in them. I never know who. And it feels desperate, grabbing for me so hard that I think it will strangle me with its need. I just don't want to sleep, okay?"

Then the touch came. And it was a soft stroke of fingers down his spine, soothing as a trail of cool water. "Child, do you not know why sleep comes so often to you? Has no one told you of the way the bond works?"

Blue eyes widened. The bond? What did magic have to do with it?

"The bond feels the danger of separation. It feels your fears and need. It tries to draw you closer to each other. As physical nearness seems impossible, it will draw you in the level beyond the physical. Your mental link will only work with sleep, and so sleep is what you need. As to the presence in your mind- it may be your bond mate himself. Who is to tell? Only you may control that magic."

"How do I tell? There's a wall that stops me from finding him, a kind of magical barrier." Toby was desperate himself by now. He was so tired. And if it was truly Jareth in his dreams, then why could he not reach him? "I've tried to break it down but I'm afraid I don't know how."

The elf sighed in frustration. Clearly the young one was untrained. What his abilities were it was hard to say. But even with little or no abilities, power such as he had recourse to brought only trouble if it was not understood. And obviously Toby had no control!

"We will teach you," Maegorod said firmly, "But for now, sleep. I will bring food for you later."

Toby needed no second words. He was already asleep before his host left the room, unconscious as he slipped back into the mists in the Escher Room. But something was wrong. The mists were beginning to pool all around the room, as if cloaking everything in mystery, and what was worse was that the presence wasn't there! He groaned a little as he began to search and call.

He needed to find him. He knew that now. Time was running out for them.

-----------------------------------------------

"**_This will look wonderful on you, dearest."_**

_**He stared at the shining circlet of red metal with wide eyes, backing away until his shoulder blades hit the wall. Why more? What had he done now? Was not his hair enough? His clothing? His manners?**_

"**_You had not the permission to move!"_**

_**He whimpered and dropped to his knees instantly. This lesson at least he had learned- his Master would not tolerate disobedience. And no matter how tired or sick he felt, his Master's commands would be obeyed. **_

_**In despair he felt the shackles in his mind shift just a little as the collar slid around his neck. The beautifully shaped fingers moved around to fasten it. He stared at one powerful thigh before his eyes, appalled for some reason to even know this was happening. But surely this was alright? This fairy had saved him, had given him back life and hope. Who was he to deny the fairy proper thanks?**_

"**_Beautiful, my pet._** **_Truly beautiful."_**

_**He looked up timidly, sighing inwardly in relief to see the brown eyes look down at him with tenderness. Guilt trembled inside him. The fairy had given him so much, surely he should repay it?**_

_**He moved forward slightly and pressed a small kiss into the thigh before him, feeling hands come up to trace the shape of his skull. It was the gentlest of touches, and vastly soothing since their last lesson. He felt himself flush again as he remembered that lesson. The way his Master's eyes had followed him as he learned not to hide anything he did from his Master. To be so completely open to anyone was terrifying. It made him feel small and out of control. It confused things so very much. **_

"**_Open your mouth, pet."_**

**_Soft, warm voice that he could drown in._** **_So much tenderness in this rough, crazy world... he opened his mouth and accepted the long, lazy kisses that pushed deep down his throat. He knew how to deal with this now. He would never risk another beating for trying to move away. _**

"**_Good. So beautiful, my dearest. I have waited a long time for you... so long and now you are mine. Yes?"_**

_**He nodded and sighed, innocently wondering why the movement would bring such an intense groan from his Master's lips. Release this time was not harsh, merely a slightly harder thrust against his hips and the order to keep moving. He obeyed and then continued to kiss until his Master let him stop. **_

"**_Are you mine?" A teasing finger and his Master was kneeling face-to-face with him on the floor. "Tell me, dear one, are you mine?" The finger slipped to the bruise on his collarbone, stabbing harshly at it before trailing around the slight dampness on his chest. _**

_**He shuddered at the feeling inside him, the bewilderingly lost feeling that disappeared only when his Master claimed him. Whatever else happened, the world was right if his Master would only promise to make him whole. **_

"**_All yours," he whispered, "Everything I am."_**

_**Full lips smirked with glee before capturing the softly parted mouth in a more heated kiss.**_

_**It seemed the lessons were on hold for the rest of the day. **_


	4. Control

Author's Note: 'mellon nín' means 'my friend' in Tolkenian elvish. As for the elvish names, they will be translated in a later chapter. Enjoy, my sweets!

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"What do I do now?" Toby demanded.

Brethiliaur grinned and held out a wand fashioned from supple wood. It was thin and light, honey-coloured and imperfectly carved. But, like everything else in this strange elvish world, it seemed perfectly magnificent.

"Now," the elf instructed, "Feel the wood."

Toby ran a hand over the wood, feeling more than a little foolish. It was all very well for his new protectors to help him train his magic, but this was just silly. He'd been picking things up and feeling them the whole morning. If he didn't know better, he'd say Brethiliaur was having fun at his expense. Sighing, he gave up and handed it back.

"Look, maybe it would go easier if you told me what I was supposed to do," he tried again, "What's supposed to happen?"

"When it happens," Brethiliaur replied stoically, "You will know."

Damn elves and their damned philosophizing! Toby was fed up and tired. And he had a headache from being out in the sun too long.

Hs tutor for the day seemed to realize that too, because the wand was placed with the others in the woven basket and a hand held out to help him to his feet. "Come. It is time for a rest."

"I'm fine, you know. You guys can stop worrying about breaking me in half."

"Breaking in half? No, we do not worry for that. You are strong."

Toby snorted. He was five foot eight and weighed about the same as these ethereal elves that appeared to be made from thin air. And what was worse, he didn't have the elvish strength to counteract it! The arm that pulled him to his feet could effortlessly chop wood or carry heavy burdens through the mountains. He had seen Brethiliaur wield a broadsword with the same ease that he might expect Archer to display. Strong? Toby was beginning to doubt he was anything but some simpering maiden capable of fainting for all the good he was.

But he held his tongue. The elves were good people and kind to a fault. He didn't want to burden them with his stupidity now. Not while they put aside their lives to help him.

"Hoggle?" Brethiliaur called, "There was no need to do that."

The dwarf looked up from the garden he was tending and got up quickly, gruffly 'hmmph'-ing to himself as he dusted his hands off on his trousers. "Aw, it was nothing. I thought Gwenél would like some flowers, is all. All these weeds- choking the poor flowers they was."

Toby hid a smile as Brethiliaur nodded gravely and bowed. "Thank you, mellon nín. I believe Gwenél will be overjoyed at your kindness."

Hoggle 'hmmph'-ed again and strode off, bandy legs toddling along as fast as they could go. It was obvious that he was not comfortable around their hosts. Gwenél alone could bring him to some semblance of ease and he was fast becoming fiercely loyal to the elf. It was rather funny, in Toby's mind.

"You guys don't really believe in neat gardens, do you?" Toby asked dryly, continuing on with Brethiliaur when the latter began to walk once more.

Green eyes turned to him, calm and wise beyond the age that showed in the fine lines of the long face. "No," Brethiliaur agreed, "We do not. But we admire the beauty of a well-tended garden. Besides, the gift was prettily thought out, was it not?"

"I guess, actually. So where are you taking me?"

"I take you nowhere. You choose to accompany me, mellon nín."

Toby looked startled, turning enquiring blue eyes to his companion only to find wry humour directed in a mischievous glance his way. He grinned ruefully and reached up to retie his hair. As always, it never seemed to stay confined in its ribbon. And currently the black ribbon he affected was dangling almost right off the pony-tail from the morning. "Okay, then, my wise friend- where am I accompanying you to?"

"The bathing pool. It is about time you had a bath, do you not think?"

Toby seriously considered thumping the smug elf on the head. But thought better of it. He really did need a place to stay and insulting one's host was never a good idea when in that situation. So he contented himself with a muttered expletive in the goblin tongue that made his educated listener laugh.

The sweet sound quivered over the glade, moving almost like a living creature through the trees until it brought Maegorod out to find the source. "Surely the lessons were not so bad that laughter is your response?" he asked.

Toby huffed as two pairs of wild-humoured eyes turned to him. It was gentle teasing; he knew that. And he wasn't insulted. But he really wasn't in the best of moods lately. No one had yet been able to find out anything about the situation involving the war. He hadn't even told the three elves that he had the Medallion with him. Their lives would all be forfeit for that heirloom alone. And Jareth... well, Jareth was still lost. Even the presence in his dreams was no longer there. Toby found himself even more worried now than when he had been traveling. He hadn't had the time then to fear. Now he did, and the possibilities were driving him mad. Arradine was absolutely defenseless and for the most part, so was he. If he couldn't feel anything in the stupid wands, what hope did he have?

"Toby? Toby, is something amiss?"

He tore his eyes away from the bush and blinked at Maegorod. The elf was obviously worried about him, slender brows pulled together in a light frown over piercing hazel eyes. Brethiliaur was equally affected, arms crossed as his eyes examined the mortal was head to toe with professional concern. "I'm just tired," he excused.

The two nodded understandingly and pointed him forward. "Beyond there."

He found himself bending his head to walk below a low branch that could have knocked Ludo unconscious and then straightened, only to be struck dumb with awe. The place they were in was far too familiar. Surely it could not be... it was certainly not that very same lake!

"We use this to bathe in. The water is warm enough throughout the year and it is private. The spring at the side of the catacombs supplies us the water for our domesticity generally. Come; undress and swim with us."

Toby took a step back. Undress? With both of them? The reservation in his face must have translated itself to both elves for they stopped and looked at each other before turning back to him.

"Or perhaps it would be wiser to give you some time alone," Maegorod murmured. He picked up his tunic from where he had left it and pulled it back on, settling it with deft hands as Brethiliaur pushed his loosened hair behind his ears. "We will return for you in a few hours to take you back to the house. It is safe here; there is nothing to fear."

"Wait, I didn't... I was only startled. You don't have to go." Toby felt really bad for chasing them away. Clearly they had meant well. But the lake! And that day... "There used to be a lake a short distance from the Castle at the centre of the Labyrinth. I used to go there. It looked very like this one."

"Did it?" Brethiliaur pricked up his pointed ears and moved closer. "Tell me, Toby, does this lake hold a special memory for you?"

The mortal looked surprised, but shrugged. "It was the scene for a lot of drama. Why?"

"Were these memories good?"

"Some of them were..." _Yes_, his mind sighed, _like the day you told your husband you were pregnant. You were so scared and so lost. And he just told you it was wonderful! And then the time you just sat there the day after the wedding, silent and still, learning to grow comfortable around each other._

"...some of them weren't". _Like the time the Voice came to you. You scratched Jareth so badly that evening. The scars were on his shoulder for ages._

Maegorod answered that for him, a small touch to his elbow encouraging him towards the clear water. "Perhaps the lake will act as a focal point to draw your restraints away. The feel of the water and the feel of the memories- you will lose this habit of not taking control. Which in your case seems to be an irrational fear of responsibility."

"Are you telling me I'm scared of being in control?" Toby demanded, baulking just a little as his toes drew closer to the edge of the water. "That's ridiculous!"

"Unfortunately, it is not," Brethiliaur said firmly, "It is perfectly natural for one male in a bond of your kind to give up control to another."

"I am not giving up control!"

The two elves shared a look of exasperation. "Perhaps no one has explained to you the bond yet?"

"I know..."

"About the basic translation, yes. Has your bond mate not also informed you of the boundaries of the relationship you have?"

Toby was getting very confused. In the space of three days, he was finding out that there were more things to learn than he could possibly remember! A new-found respect for the Goblin King's ability to pick any book out of his library pertaining to information he sought had begun to develop. Surely it took years of careful reading to know what every book in that library was? "I don't know what you mean," he snapped evasively.

The elves left him at the edge of the lake as they stripped casually. Toby averted his eyes hurriedly. And then gave a shocked yelp when they began to help him get his own clothes off.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, pulling away and holding his undone shirt closed. Not only was it a shock, but something was telling him that this was wrong on another level. He was married. He was... no, he belonged to another man. He belonged to Jareth. Jareth was safe. Jareth didn't do this to him. He didn't play games unless Toby wanted. He never touched him unless Toby wanted. Toby didn't want this but neither of them stopped hedging around him, circling closer like foxes on a hunt.

Brethiliaur smiled sweetly, eyes watchful as he approached him with a hand out, as if approaching a horse or dog unfamiliar with his scent. "Surely there is no shame in undressing before us? We have already done so, and you cannot swim in those clothes."

"I think I'll wait," Toby gulped. What was going on?

"Toby, you should stop fighting your urges," Maegorod murmured.

Toby spun. How did the redhead get behind him? He hadn't even seen him move!

He didn't see Brethiliaur's eyes narrow in contemplation. But he did hear his words- "Lirimaer, surely you know that there can be no shame in a body like yours?"

Lirimaer? Lovely One? He had no right! Without thought, Toby found a crystal in his hands, glowing with an unnatural brightness that had never coloured any of his other crystals before. He almost threw it at Brethiliaur but stopped with a supreme effort, undecided, turning to Maegorod only to find the latter departed from his position. The flash of black threw his mind into the back of his skull in fright.

"Easy, mellon nín. Calm down. It is all right now. It was only a test. Easy."

He didn't realize that he had dropped to his knees, shaking and shivering in Maegorod's arms. He didn't even realize Maegorod was trying to comfort him, calling his name and stroking his neck. All he could see were the dark eyes that had never really left his mind's eyes, the honeyed words slicing razor-like through his soul until he'd wanted to kill himself. The hand on the back of his neck was only pressing him down, pressing his face down and he just knew those hands would turn hard and merciless.

Brethiliaur seemed to sense that comfort would not help, for he directed his elfish friend to undress the mortal and then both took him into the water. Toby had stopped his fit but was deathly silent, pale beneath the golden tan and shriveled in his skin. The water seemed to lap around them with an added sympathy.

"It will be all right," Brethiliaur sighed, worried. The reaction with the crystals had been much as he had intended. The nature of the bond could only be truly understood by experience. No, what worried him was the hysteria. It had been a test and Toby had collapsed. Brethiliaur had only expected Toby to get a shock and say something about not wanting to cheat.

"Why?" the mortal asked, not even opening his eyes as he asked the question. From his attitude he seemed almost not to care. But from the stiffness in his shoulders, the elves could tell it was quite the opposite.

"To make you refuse us," Maegorod informed him, "Though your reaction was a little strange."

Strange? Of course; because neither of the two knew about his rapist. "You had no right to touch me," he repeated, "Or even try that without my permission. Are we clear?"

"We understand," Brethiliaur smiled. Tentatively he reached out to stroke the golden hair but Toby pulled away, swimming away out to the middle. The two elves exchanged another speaking glance and followed him.

For a while, all three just swam, diving beneath and surfacing, exploring the perimeters of the lake at leisure. Toby didn't join them, of course, and the seething, cold look on his face told them why. It puzzled them, but they hesitated to go to him until he was ready to hear them.

"Okay," he said at last, "Explain. What happened back there?"

Maegorod pushed his hair off his face and bobbed on the surface for a few minutes. Brethiliaur looked to him expressively, making him sigh and shake his head. "We were instructing you on the nature of your relationship with your bond mate."

"And I suppose you couldn't just tell me what you were trying to do?"

Brethiliaur still did not seem inclined to speak. Maegorod shrugged. "Words do not always paint a reliable picture. Sometimes, one must feel it to acknowledge it. Besides, you would not have believed us even though you have felt the dynamics of the bond at work."

"I don't even know what those dynamics are," Toby growled, splashing water in his frustration, "You can't just expect me to pick up on something I can't recognize, you know."

"The nature of the bond," Brethiliaur said unexpectedly, "When combined with a formal binding, becomes in the way of a submissive relationship. It is more prominent with homosexual couples. One male will take control, and the other- for reasons private and varied- will submit. It is the way things are."

"Submit?" Toby almost fell over and drowned himself. He wasn't a submissive. He didn't work like that.

'_I belong to you. I exist only for you and you alone'... 'nothing but you'... 'mark me, brand me, use me'... 'just make me scream the things I want to tell you'... _

The blinding feeling of utter completion as Jareth had taken him, those words ringing between them as if it were a binding spell of some kind. Arradine kept safe in his body, his husband inside him, love and need and caring surging through him until he thought he would die if only to feel those chains on his wrists bind him to the Goblin King forever.

But he wasn't submissive... was he? Blue eyes fixed on the images in his head, he made slowly for dry land. The elves at his back said nothing. They did not go to him when he walked out and dressed- still wet- and left them on his own path.

They waited until he was out of earshot to feel safe enough to question what had just happened:

"It appears he knows nothing of his life," Maegorod guessed, "The Goblin King has been remiss."

"I do not think Jareth said nothing out of neglect. The mortal does not seem the kind to like this sort of relationship, never mind that he has already pledged himself to it. Likely Jareth said nothing in a deliberate attempt not to alarm him. It is not always so; you know that. For the most part they will be lovers."

Maegorod snorted. "Lovers? Formally bound bond mates are never just lovers, Brethiliaur. They are soul mates- the two bodies with one combined mind, one combined heart and one combined essence. Look to Toby's aura. The silver of the Goblin King still stains it in large amounts, even without the physical presence. The child will have no chance to do more than offer himself."

"He is already far gone, is he not?"

The redheaded elf smiled and nodded, his hazel eyes still worried. "There will be trouble. For he will not give up control, and Jareth will not tolerate anything less than complete surrender. Lord Pelinlas always despaired for that."

"Aye, were he only here," Brethiliaur mourned, "His wisdom is much needed. Be that as it may, I think we should go to Gwenél and tell her of this. And then perhaps a talk with the creatures?"

So decided, the two left, climbing out of the water and dressing, fluidly graceful beneath the hot sun.

Toby was not seen for the rest of the day until nightfall, when he came back for the evening meal in much the same good spirits he always seemed to feel. If he noticed the searching glances directed to him by the three elves, he gave no notice of it. Instead, he seemed to set himself out to please, drawing his friends out to talk without fear and playing cheerfully with his daughter in apology for neglecting her all day.

And that night again he cried himself to sleep.

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_**It was almost over. It had to be! He couldn't stand another moment of this. **_

_**But he looked up and the soldier was still there. The heated metal band on his neck seared again and he looked mutely to his Master, pleading for mercy. But mercy was withheld. **_

_**The needles were slender and sharp. But the points they were pushed into were agony and he suffered them as he had been instructed- in silence, with a gag in his mouth and tears on his face. His stomach roiled and he was only thankful that he hadn't eaten for so many days or he would have choked to death on his own vomit. **_

_**As it was, he was beginning to lose all sanity. **_

_**A song kept going through his mind, the like of which he had never heard before. It sounded so strange, filled with words he couldn't remember or recognize, filled with opulent images that he had been told were not what he truly liked. His Master had told him so. **_

"**_Deeper."_**

_**The command was soft spoken and the needle was driven just an inch more into his palm. He swallowed down the sob, knowing it would do no good. **_

_**Why did his Master do this to him? It had been an accident! He hadn't meant to turn his head when his Master reached to kiss him. Only he had been tired and something had told him that he shouldn't have to endure what could not give him any pleasure in return for that night. So he had tried to request his Master to leave him be, just for one night! After all, he would not do so normally. **_

_**The needle drove in further. **_

_**The soft voice in his head whispered all the painful ways he could be punished. He cried out again and again in his mind to his Master, begging to be released, pleading to be forgiven. And his Master's soft voice only dealt him a harsher punishment. **_

"**_You should learn that I control you."_**

_**He waited for his title. He waited to hear himself addressed as 'pet'. It was a favourite term of endearment. When he had asked to be told his name, his Master had just teased that he was 'his pet', no more and no less. And he had been kissed and cosseted as a prized lapdog. But why was his Master not calling him so now?**_

"**_Because you are not mine," the answer came grimly, "How could you be? You refuse me. You turn away from me. After all I have done for you, you deny me? Then you are not mine. I cannot love someone who cannot love me in return."_**

_**The needle pulled out with excruciating slowness. Bile burned in his throat as he screwed his eyes shut over the avalanche of tears that threatened to cascade down his cheeks. **_

'**_Please,' he begged mentally, 'I love you. I love only you. Please!'_**

"**_Only me?_** **_How truly romantic of you. And where was this romanticism when I came to you to show you love? When I offered you pleasure, you threw it away. How can you prove you love me?"_**

'**_Try me now,' he screamed silently, 'Try me now and I will not turn. I swear it. Master...' _**

_**The sentences were getting disjointed. The words were running round and around in his head like a broken record, like the wheels of a moving bus. Wait! What was a 'bus'? Where did the word come from?**_

"**_Leave us."_**

_**The needles left. He could only take the time to cradle his hand to his chest, the sinful hand that had pushed his Master away. He hated his own hand for the pain and he felt it was deserved.**_

_**The gag was ripped from his mouth and he had barely time to lick his dry lips before it was filled once more. Yet this time, he actively welcomed it. The needle pain kept its work. But he concentrated on his Master, forgetting everything in proving just how much he loved the other male. For he did, didn't he? Why else would he feel this way? His Master had done so much for him, had given him so much. His Master had told him of the time they had spent together, of the fantasies they had played to each other before the memory loss. **_

_**Of course he loved him. And he was meant to live this way, surely? On his knees, with his mouth and body at his Master's disposal? **_

_**What else was there for him? **_


	5. Missing in Action

Author's Note: I know that most people are beginning to think that I'm laying it on too thick. But bear with me. The story writes itself as it sees fit, and there's nothing I can do to change that. As for Archer being the bad guy... is he really? I'm not sure yet.

---------------------------------------------------

If there was one thing that Karen hadn't expected when she woke up, it was to find a Fairy Lord in her living room. Especially a Fairy Lord who had come to tell her about war.

"Mrs. Williams?"

She looked up to those worried brown eyes, trying to piece together everything that Archer was telling her. Harold was still sitting on the couch with his tie half-done and his hair mussed, bewildered and disbelieving.

"Are you telling me," she asked slowly, "That Jareth lost some war and disappeared?"

Archer nodded. "No one knows where he is, my Lady; yes. We believe that he might have concealed himself in the Lawless Kingdom while gathering troops to win back his country. But that is a guess at best. I need your help. I need to know where your son is."

"Toby?" Harold looked up with wide blue eyes, rising to his feet as it finally slammed into his head what this would mean for his son and granddaughter. "Toby hasn't contacted us. We didn't even know the Goblin Kingdom was in a damn war!"

"He has not come here?"

"No. We haven't seen him since we spoke with him a month ago. Sarah tried calling Hoggle, but…"

"The dwarf has disappeared too," Archer interrupted, the metal in his belt clinking softly as he began to pace the room, "There is no sign of them. My Queen is merciful; if Toby surrenders himself and the child, she will only exile them back to the Aboveground. They will be safe here."

"And Jareth?"

"I will do all I can for my cousin, but the situation does not look good." The toe of a leather boot scuffed absently at the carpet. "Jareth only makes things harder for himself by running away. I cannot think why he persists in endangering his bond mate by fighting a losing battle. Queen Amarild will be forced to take drastic measures if Toby is not found before the inevitable next battle."

"D-drastic measures?"

Both humans went pale. They were simply unable to believe that Archer was standing in the conventionally tidy room spouting off terrible sounding hints of foreboding. It simply wasn't possible! Jareth had sat in this same room and promised to protect their son; it couldn't happen that he would throw him into the deep end of the sea without a life raft, could it?

"Toby may be imprisoned along with the child for life. Amarild will be forced to execute Jareth when he is eventually captured. I will not be able to save him should he not surrender."

"What if Toby's with Jareth?" Harold asked in a panic, "Would that make a difference?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Toby must give himself up and stand trial. It will be a formality, of course; his sentence is fixed. But if he is captured, I don't know… his child might be forfeit. Along with Jareth."

Archer looked tired, so unthinkably tired and heartsick at the prospect. This was war and change. Amarild would have to be harsh to stop the war. There was no other way. And the Goblin King was dethroned. The Labyrinth- his source of power- was being destroyed as they spoke. Stone by weathered stone it was being dismantled, whole trains of goblins pressed into work to destroy their pride and joy. And the Spirit had fought bravely to defend itself. But without Jareth's management there was no hope of victory. Only together could they hope to win. The Labyrinth would fall.

"Archer, you must find Toby and Arradine. And then bring them back." Harold stroked a soothing hand down his wife's back as his eyes hardened. "As for Jareth, do what you like to him. Kill him for all I care. Just bring my son back safe, okay? Anything in my power is yours, but bring my family to the Aboveground."

The Fairy Lord nodded, bowing gravely as he gathered the shreds of his magical abilities back around himself. "I will do all I can," he promised, "If, in turn, you contact me if Toby returns to you?" Having extracted a promise, he left a hand mirror on the nearest table- "This will allow us to converse if that time comes. Simply speak the name and I will answer if I can. Rest easy. I will do everything possible to keep your son safe."

He disappeared, leaving Karen to sniff loudly as her eyes began to water. Harold was furious, murmuring vengeful curses under his breathe against the proud, impetuous Goblin King. Karen wasn't inclined to think the name-calling unfair. How could Jareth have pulled Toby into something so dangerous? He had promised to protect him!

She could have understood if there were problems in the marriage, but to act with complete disregard for the powerlessness of his husband and his child was horrible in the extreme. She had quite a few things she longed to spit in his face too; and quite a few places on his person that she wanted to kick. But that would have to wait. "I'll tell Sarah," Karen sighed, "Poor thing; she was so happy, what with the pregnancy and her new book deal. And Ben's promotion. Now to tell her this! She'll be so upset."

"I don't like it, Karen," Harold said heavily, running a hand through his hair, "She's always been too emotional over Toby. What if something goes wrong?"

"Toby's missing, our grandchild is in a war, we have no way of helping either, and now you worry about something going wrong?"

Harold groaned and shook his head. "I meant with Sarah," he snapped, "What if she has a miscarriage?"

"Don't tell her?" Karen guessed. Harold shrugged, but his eyes pleaded with her to do just that. "Okay, we'll keep quiet for now. But if Toby doesn't come back by next week, then I'm telling her. She's been there before; she might know someone who can help."

"And in the meantime? Will you be all right?"

Karen felt her eyes water again, but she blinked them back. "I'll be fine," she lied, "But we should get to work."

Harold sighed and nodded, hugging her one last time as they awkwardly began to move back into the morning's routine of coffee and last minute decisions.

-------------------------------------------------

Archer sighed as he found himself back in his mirrored hall. His energy was drained. He had not the magic to move comfortably between worlds and using life force could be very debilitating.

But it had been worth it.

He walked to the door, his feet moving slightly sluggishly over the polished marble. Usually he would have sat down and called for wine or something else as uplifting, but in the circumstances... the way to his bedchambers was not that long. And the sight that met his eyes was one that boosted his spirits as nothing else could do.

He shut the door softly and crept towards the bed, careful not to make any noise that might disturb the sleeping occupant. The room, so similar to the Goblin King's own, was spacious, with high ceilings that never seemed to be touched by the light. The covers were thrown over the sleeping figure with a messy abandonment. The pale, rounded belly was gently covered by a slender hand. He made a mental note to have Ariadne open the windows every morning.

Archer watched, silently, lovingly, his hands stroking the long black hair. His... it had been the most miraculous day of his life when he'd first seen his lover- scared, small, lonely. And hating! Oh, but his lover had been spiting and cursing, snarling like a feral tiger. And then had gentled and calmed under Archer's touch like a mare that only needed a firm hand. The kisses had been sweet, dripping with honey and desire, enough to fire the fairy's blood until he could not understand how he had waited so long to ask for this. And the long, pale body with its secret hollows delighted him like no other.

But not for the body alone did Archer crave his lover. The dark hair hid a mind like a steel trap, a brain that owed nothing to formal learning and everything to willful experience and a thirst for power, an arrogant bearing and a callous disregard for all things not directly concerned for the two of them. A dirty, dangerous mind that Archer loved to delve into.

The silk shifted, eyes slitting open against the dim light of the shuttered room.

Archer smiled down as the soft mouth began to curve. He stroked the sharpness of a cheekbone before dropping his hand to rest on the large stomach. The child had only been the added bonus to his happiness. And he longed for the last two months to speed up and fly away, so that he might once more possess his pretty mare without disturbing the body already disturbed by the pregnancy.

"My business is over," he whispered, "Would you like to tell me of your dreams?"

A slender hand rose to tangle with his fingers. "You know my dreams."

"I cannot think they are all about me," Archer laughed, getting up to hand over the black robe usually worn. "There must be something more to your life."

"No, nothing more or less than you. You know that."

"Do I really?"

Sleep-hazed, glowing eyes looked to him with complete faith. "You are my Master and you control me. What else is there to know?"


	6. Power

Author's Note: And just when we thought things were getting untangled!

-----------------------------------

"Gwenél..."

The elf maiden looked up from the vegetable she was peeling and smiled encouragingly. Toby hesitated a moment in the doorway and then came in, taking a seat opposite her on the floor with a nod of thanks. She continued with her task and he marvelled at her serenity as the world outside her door went to hell in a spectacular blaze of glory.

"Gwenél, I was just wondering if you could give me a few answers," he asked politely.

The brown head nodded and the knife went on peeling. Toby shuddered and looked the other way: knives were still taboo subjects. He preferred not to deal with them.

"Speak, my Lord. I will tell you what I can."

"It's not 'my lord'; it's Toby. After over a month, I thought you'd remember that. I'm a little confused here. Maegorod and Brethiliaur said- said something about the bond a while ago. Now, I know the bond means certain things but I'm not quite sure that anyone's told me the whole picture."

"No one knows the whole picture," Gwenél answered, a whimsical glance thrown his way, "It takes many years of study to come to a proper understanding of the bond, study such as your bond mate has done."

"Jareth studied this?" It sounded vaguely disturbing.

"The King of the Goblins must have been very lonely. A lonely creature wants to know what it is that is missing from its life. It is the nature of all living things."

Toby couldn't say why, but the impression of Jareth wishing and hoping for someone to love him didn't quite tally with his limited understanding of that Person. "How much did he understand of it?"

"Who can say? The more the scholars know, the more complex it becomes."

"How long did he study? It wasn't just to find out why he bonded with a baby, was it?"

"For many years before you," she agreed, "He prepared himself for that day with compulsion. He knew not when it would be, but my father often remarked that the thought of having someone belong to him made the idea very attractive for Jareth."

That sounded more like it. Still a little sad, but more plausible. "I see. So a bond mate belongs to another? They were right, then, when they said that I was a submissive to Jareth. I see."

Gwenél put the knife down and frowned, considering the statement as if something troubled her. "If Brethiliaur and Maegorod have offended you in some manner, then I must apologize for them. We do not know your ways."

"Oh, I'm not offended," Toby reassured, "Just a little startled. Jareth didn't mention it. He only said a bond was made out of mutual need and an emotional connection. He wasn't lying about that, was he?"

"No. No, he was not lying. He has not told you certain things, but he has not lied to you."

There was nothing more said on the subject for a while, and the two went about their business with quiet absorption in other matters. Maegorod oversaw the training of the mortal in the elfish use of magic- the more formal version of the Goblin King being out of the elf's range of ability- and Gwenél and Brethiliaur attempted to gain news of the happenings in the outside world. Sir Didymus went hunting with Ludo and Ambrosius and Hoggle doggedly tended the garden.

But Toby found himself casting suspicious glances at his tutor's bowed red head. "How did Jareth find out about you guys?"

Maegorod never looked up from the spear he was mending, but the set of his shoulders made his attention clear. "Lord Pelinlas befriended him as a youth and they were close."

Toby nodded and went back to playing with the stones. His daughter was busy trying to be a tiger cub hunting butterflies. At any other times he would have been amused. His Arradine was wilful, but charming. Just like her father. He found himself looking for those comparisons more now that he was a little more aware of what he had got himself into. It explained a lot of things. Toby wondered how he had never seen it before. It was so obvious! Even his parents must have noticed. Toby hadn't been particularly restrained with his reactions to Jareth. He'd thought he'd been, but looking back he wasn't so sure.

And Jareth. That little episode with the games and the… Toby felt just a little angry about that. Jareth had known all along, and he hadn't done anything.

Alright, so Toby knew very well he would have been furious and upset if Jareth had really said anything in words about controlling him. Marriage proposals and warnings aside, Toby hadn't been looking for an actual owner or anything. He'd just needed certain things. And Jareth had known but hadn't provided it? Why? What the hell had possessed him?

"You're frowning, Toby."

"I'm fucking angry."

The elf didn't move a muscle. He didn't know what the word 'fuck' meant, but concluded from the mortal's tone that it meant nothing happy. Open concern would only make Toby pull away. That trick by the lake was still too fresh in all their minds. Maegorod tended to the edge of his spear and kept his eyes turned down. "If there is some way I can help, I am all ears."

"You can't help. Unless you can get me out of this fucking war zone."

"You can do that on your own, mellon nín."

"Really. Wonderful! I can go Aboveground and then Amarild can come after me to make sure that my daughter never lives to speak her word. Along the way, she can kill me too and then kill my family while she's at it. She's probably on her way here right now. Picking up that damned obvious trail we must have made on our way here!"

"What bothers you, Toby?"

The stone flicked out and flew into the pile on the ground, scattering it. "What am I doing here?" he grit out, "I'm putting everyone in danger and I don't even know my own bond mate. His past, his character... I don't know anything."

"You know enough," Maegorod countered softly, putting the spear aside.

"Yeah, just about enough to say I've met him," Toby snapped sarcastically, "I never stopped to think about it. I knew he had a problem with giving up control but now you tell me that that's perfectly normal, given the situation. What about his father? What happened? Will it affect Arradine? And me- what happens when he's tired of me? What happens when I grow old? Will I die if he dies? Will he feel my pain if I get hurt or ill? What about Arradine? Is she immortal? Mortal? A mortal immortal, even? What about powers; what can or can't I do?"

Maegorod held up a hand, stopping the avalanche of questions from smothering them both. While Toby stopped to take a breath, he settled on his stomach on the grass and got comfortable. The gaining of knowledge was a serious business for the elves, and they liked knowledge. After all, knowledge was power. They also liked sharing it, for- as every elf knew- power corrupted those who sought to possess it solely.

"First," he began, "His past I cannot tell you, at least where his father is concerned. It is forbidden for any to speak of it without permission. Only your bond mate may tell you all. As for your child- yes, it will affect her. But perhaps not in the manner you fear. Have you never thought his problems might make him a more caring father?"

Seeing the mortal blush, the elf concluded that he hadn't.

"Second," he continued, "You are mortal. That cannot change. But bound to such a powerful immortal influence as the Goblin King, you will be touched by the appearance of immortality. Your body will most likely stop aging at some point quite soon. Your spirit will not do so, so whether you will live as long as your bond mate is unknown. Though the bond has been a part of you since your infancy; perhaps you will assume more of the immortal ways. Only time will tell."

"Jareth never told me that either."

"Toby, none of this is certain. Very few attain what you have with Jareth. Binding with mortals is even more rare. Jareth possibly could not be certain of his theories."

"Fair enough," Toby sighed, "And Arra?"

"Ah. Now that is less easy. She may be as you- as mortal touched by immortality- or she may be an immortal with a shorter life span. I cannot tell you. No elf can. A healer may do so, or one with the ability to read auras- power such as yours, may I add."

"My power? Or Jareth's?"

"Well, your bond mate's, naturally," Maegorod assured him, "Humans have no real ability to use magic. But as you and your bond mate share a source of power now..."

"So let me get this straight- I can use Jareth's power? All of it? Any time I want?"

"Yes."

"But I am mortal."

"Yes. Therefore you will never have the control over it that your bond mate does. Mortals could never actually withstand the full effect of magic. However, you can still use vast amounts of power in short bursts."

Toby sighed and shook his head glumly. "What about changing to animal forms?" he asked.

"It is a distinct probability that you may do so. But what your animus will be is something you may only find by yourself. May I ask you a question?"

Toby looked wary but said yes. When elves asked him for information, it was never a good sign. Never mind that the sun was shining and serenity sang in the rosebushes. After all, he was the one who didn't know things; these were elves. Surely they knew most everything there was to know?

"What do you see when you close your eyes?"

The mortal was surprised, that was clear. Maegorod brushed his hair out of his eyes and absently began to braid the hair at his temples, getting it securely out of the way for what he was preparing to do. It had been over a month and the boy had walked aimlessly around and become more listless. Now, more than ever, he was determined to begin the tutoring. He knew how aggravating it could be to be confined without pursuits. The spirits knew what he would have done had he not had his spear to train with when first arriving in the Hringer Glade.

Toby crossed his legs and settled into a firmer position on the ground, elbows on his knees and chin in his cupped hands. "Nothing really," he admitted, "Why? It's just dark behind my eyelids."

"Ah." So there was the problem.

"What?" Toby knew that look. That look was universal to people trying to make him do stupid things for his own good. Sarah had had that look when she made him submit a few of his sketches to a local artist for critiquing. It had been so slashed and massacred that he'd almost given up sketching altogether. That look boded trouble.

"Summon a crystal," the elf whispered, drawing to his side, "Now close your eyes."

"What's going to happen?" he asked pointedly.

Maegorod smiled and shook his head. "Don't you trust me, Toby?"

"No."

"Because I would do something to harm you?" Maegorod asked sensibly, "I can promise you not to touch you at all. That was what you worried for by the lake, yes?"

Toby gave in and obeyed somewhat sheepishly, wondering why he was being asked this.

"Do not open your eyes; just feel the crystal in your fingers. What does it feel like?"

"Like a soap bubble made tangible." Shades of his husband in his voice, Toby thought sadly, so much lost and so much taken. The crystal shifted in his fingers and he steadied it.

"All right. Try again. What does the crystal feel like in your fingers?"

"I just..."

"Another description, please. Your own opinion and not another's."

Toby stifled a smirk at that authoritative growl. Maegorod's hoarse voice was well suited to being a schoolteacher, especially because anyone looking at his delicate beauty would not expect it. Greg, the bully from his science class, would probably have tried to give Maegorod hell if he'd stepped out in front of them. Toby could just imagine how the elf would deal with it- likely with that damnably soft sarcasm and swift retaliation. He didn't think elves took assaults on their pride with composure.

"Like a crystal," he protested, "It's nothing more." Again, hadn't those been words that Sarah had told him Jareth had said? '_Just a crystal, nothing more...'_

"I see," Maegorod said slowly. He reached out and trailed a finger over Toby's wrist. "Can you feel this?"

"We agreed no touching," Toby snapped, opening his eyes. His crystal was beginning to glow again.

Maegorod took his finger away and smiled at the crystal. "There is a reason that I touched you," he promised, "Did you feel what I traced?"

"If you wrote something it was a fairly straight line," Toby murmured, looking to his wrist. The crystal calmed somewhat. "You traced my vein though."

"Exactly! Is that just a vein? Any vein? Could you cut it open and forget?"

Toby looked up, a little freaked by the question. "No," he answered carefully, "Because then I'd die! And I've already been close enough to death, thank you very much. I don't want a repeat performance."

It was Maegorod's turn to look surprised and a little confused, but he waved the statement away and pointed to the crystal, not daring to pick it up because such power was not safe for any creature to touch unless it was offered. "And knowing that, would you still call this just a crystal?"

Toby stared from the crystal to Maegorod to his arm. A vein... a crystal... blood... magic... "Oh," he said blankly, "I didn't think it was such a big deal."

"Hence the reason that you cannot draw on the true extent of the magic."

Toby picked up the crystal and offered it silently to Maegorod. The elf took it then, and shut his eyes. He wrapped his senses around the crystal and let the magic contained leech slowly through his consciousness. Then he floated it away into the sky. It was not a spectacular display, but the concentration and respect with which he handled the magic was. And his audience was suitably impressed.

"So how do I do that?"

Maegorod rose, picked up his spear with one hand and tossed a small branch to the still-seated mortal with the other. "Practice," he ordered succinctly, "And without crystals. Only when you feel the magic in nature, can you understand the magic in a crystal."

Toby stared at that straight back as it strode away. It reached an embankment of trees and stopped, only to turn and direct a dazzling smile his way. "I have no desire for men, Toby; you may rest easy."

And then he was gone, leaving a confused pupil holding a piece of wood and a baby who yawned.

-------------------------------------------------------

_**There was pain! By all the Gods, he had never thought that it would hurt so much. **_

_**His Master had placed a soothing hand on his arm, shushing him when he tried to say something. "After," his Master assured him, "When this is done and you are rested." Then he had been left to cope alone, left with this strange healer in this frightening situation.**_

_**The healer was a sweet-faced female who held her tongue except to tell him what to do, deft hands arranging and encouraging by turns. "That is good. Just a little longer."**_

_**He longed to scream, to say that he didn't care how little the long was, it was still long! But since that would make no sense to any of the practical creatures listening to him, he didn't bother. The collar lay passive against his throat, loosened so that he could breathe with no difficulty. **_

"**_You must push!"_**

_**The effort was almost more than he could bear and everything focused on that tearing, ripping feeling that pulled a rebellious cry from his mouth and then... then there was nothing. What had happened? Why was there no sound? What had he done?**_

_**He struggled to sit up and the healer sharply ordered him to lie down. The boy attending him pushed him unceremoniously back to the bed, warning him in a low tone that his Master would flay him alive for disobeying the healer. He almost spat in the boy's face. Gorehna was a cold, vicious little bastard as far as he was concerned. He despised all of the servants except Leela Feared them all just a little too. They knew too much of how to trap him. He craved Leela's presence like a drug at this time. He needed someone- anyone- to let their eyes say that they understood. **_

_**Whatever the healer was doing, he couldn't see it. He shut his eyes, an arm flung above his head as he waited anxiously for news. His lower body throbbed and burned and he felt the tears start as the healer laid her hands on him and began to shift him. **_

**_Gorehna_** **_wrinkled his nose at the smell of blood hanging like a blanket, so claustrophobic it pressed him back into the bed and made him sob quietly. _**

_**He needed his Master. If only his Master were here, everything would come right. He'd take five days of punishment without a word if only his Master would come to him now. He needed to feel... something. Pitied? Understood? Loved? He didn't know. But he knew he couldn't hear anything except the quiet sounds of the healer working. **_

_**He shut his eyes in despair as the white spots made him nauseous. He was tired, so tired, and he knew that something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. He could feel it in the stifling burn in his lungs, in the silence of the room.**_

"**_Pet?"_**

_**He blinked suddenly, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Why was it dim? He felt silk sheets beneath him and struggled to sit up just a little. A strong hand pushed him back, pinning his weak body effortlessly to the bed. It was not the little room at the back of the palace. This was his Master's bed. **_

"**_Stay."_**

_**It was a command. Commands throughout the whole day and the tears fell as he remembered. He might have dozed off in his exhaustion, but he remembered now!**_

"**_My child..." _**

"**_Hush, my dearest, the child lives. It is a good thing that one of us remained awake to ensure that, now, is it not?"_**

_**The soft words were obviously a reprimand and he flushed and bit his lip. "I am sorry," he whispered, turning his head so he would not have to look his Master in the eyes when he was so obviously unworthy. He stared at his dark hair spread over the pillows, tangled and sticky with sweat. All of him felt that way. Dirtied and heavy. He needed to bathe. He was ashamed of this weakness, of this cloying, clinging sadness. All of him hurt. And he was so cold.**_

_**His Master picked him up in his arms and helped him crawl into his lap, drawing his face to his shoulder. "Cry, pet. It is all over now." **_

_**He felt the tears start. How had his Master known he wanted this? He felt the shift in his mind and that answered his question- complete control. His Master knew more than he sometimes did. And his child was safe. **_

"**_It was a boy, pet. A tiny little boy who will grow up to be just as you, who will make me proud, hmmm?"_**

_**He nodded slightly, gulping down a sob as the tears soaked into the green tunic. He deliberately loosened his fist on the soft cloth, not wanting to spoil it. But his Master held him closer still. **_

"**_I love you."_**

_**He shut his eyes and nestled closer. **_

"**_I love you."_**

**_His son... his son was alive. And he was loved. What more dared he ask for?_** "**_I worship you, my Master."_**

-----------------------------------------------------

Toby sighed and swung the wood at the pile of stones he had upset before. Arradine was going to sleep in the sun and he watched her, still angry and restless and longing to put his own head down and sleep with such peace and innocence. He swung at the stones again. And again. He pressed his fingers against the rough wood and he could feel his heart pounding in his back and the air rushing in and out of his lungs. He pricked his finger on a splinter and flung the wood away.

The build up didn't recede. It was getting worse, getting tighter under his ribs, burrowing to make room for more pressure.

A knot lodged itself into his throat and he opened his mouth to breathe. His legs tensed suddenly and the knot came lose with a harsh gasp as Toby felt an actual pain slice through his chest. He thought of heart attacks and clapped his hand to the stinging aftershock.

Arradine was awake and looking at him.

Toby wiped his brow and decided to keep this to himself. His heart racing, he had the unaccountable urge to grab his daughter up and hold her tight.


	7. Cruelty

Author's Note: This is about a year after the previous chapter.

-------------------------------------

_**There were so many beautiful people here. After his first glance around the room, he didn't dare look up. He kept his gaze trained to the light fawn carpet of the formal drawing room. He could feel himself start to blush just a little at his state of undress.**_

"**_Is this really he?" The female sitting at his Master's right hand, surely; the voice seemed to come from that direction. He heard the low murmurs from the others in attendance as the female approached, close enough that he could see her feet as she circled around him. She had chestnut brown hair, he remembered, and a pretty mouth. Very soft. Almost kind. It was strange to see someone kind. _**

"**_That is he. A marked improvement, is it not?"_**

"**_Didn't he get dressed this morning?"_** **_The lady laughed and he blushed even harder. _**"**_I want to see his face." It was not a request. _**

"**_If I may," his Master informed her, "He won't do it for the asking. He is better trained than that." _**

"**_Oh, but this is too priceless to miss." Not kind, then. That voice had not been kind. Surely they knew that he was allowed to wear nothing else? Everyone in the palace knew. He was bitterly aware of that. A soft hand reached for him and though he watched the slender fingers approach, he did not think she would touch him. Then those fingers ghosted over his dark hair and he moved his head, growling a warning as he shifted away from her._**

_**The fingers withdrew in a hurry. There was a collective gasp from the other beautiful people. He knew better than to look up. He bit the inside of his lip, confused. **_

"**_He will shy away from your hand, I am afraid." _**

"**_This is an outrage! I am Queen and he refuses my touch?"_**

**_The soft hand reached for him again in spite of those words and true to his training, he moved away. No one but his Master had a right to touch him. That was the deal; that had been the bargain. He took the opportunity to raise his hands and pull his black robe closer around himself, wishing that he had been allowed to enter fully dressed._**

"**_Queen or peasant maid, any touch but mine will bring the same reaction." _**

"**_He is badly trained, then."_**

"**_I train him as I see fit. He is mine, my Queen."_**

"**_Then order him!"_**

_**"My permission is only given through touch." **_

"**_He was always your weak spot," the woman's voice was low and angered, biting through the room, "Remember that I can take him away. He will submit to me."_**

"**_He will not." He risked a half-glance up at the bodice of the woman's dress as his Master's voice took on that dark tone. "You forget, Your Majesty. I need only present him, or myself, and the goblins will arise to overthrow you. And the brat that still escapes your capture will aid me if I bring my little treasure to light."_**

"**_The mortal will not take your control of him unasked," the lady replied. _**

"**_That can always be remedied when the time arises. But no one else is to touch him."_**

"**_Have you no shame? Will you lie with your own family?"_**

**_Family?_** **_His head snapped up, position forgotten as he stared at his Master. Family?_**

_**His Master looked down on him, brown eyes darkened to pure anger. "You looked up," his Master said, "I think you will not enjoy the consequences of that mistake."**_

_**His Master nodded to someone behind him and he found himself pulled to his feet and the leash put on him. He knew what that meant. And he begged accordingly. The woman stared at him with a look of pity and disgust on her face, her soft mouth hardened as she watched the guards put shackles on his wrists and loop the chain through another ring in his collar, forcing his hands into immobility a short distance from his face. **_

_**But he had eyes only for his Master, promising him the earth and sky if he was forgiven. **_

"**_Sit down, Your Majesty," was all the dark-haired fairy would say, "You are about to find out how I discipline my pet."_**

"**_Please," he couldn't help whispering the word, "Please!"_**

"**_What will you do?" she asked, looking away to something else as the soldiers brought forth a whip. _**

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"Why do you sit out alone when the moon signals the time for rest?"

Toby looked up and smiled as he saw Gwenél watch him from behind. He moved up obligingly and waited for her to take her place beside him. "The moon signals the time for many things," he chuckled, "I won't get much sleep tonight."

"I think the moon may be at fault for that," she replied soberly, looking to him with deep grey eyes, "You never have slept when the moon is full."

And what was he to say to that? That it reminded him of Jareth? That wouldn't be quite true. The moon reminded him of sex, and the need for that close embrace that only sex could bring. He never could sleep during full moon nights because he'd doubtless only dream of Jareth or someone else and recently the dreams had been featuring a woman with grey eyes more than a man with dual-coloured ones.

"You are stiff beside me. Have I said something offensive?"

"Huh? Oh. No, you haven't. I'm just on edge. The moon reminds me of Jareth. You know, the whole bond thing. Jareth was the night, and then he left. One long eternal day without night."

Gwenél patted his shoulder comfortingly and tucked a few strands of golden hair behind his ear. She understood his plight, she really did. It was never easy to be separated from a loved one. And from what she could tell, the mortal had been very dependant on the Goblin King. It could not be easy making a new life for himself in such circumstances.

"Be that as it may, you should get some rest," she sighed. Rising to her feet, she was a little surprised to have her hand caught and kissed. Looking down, she noted with compassion that Toby had dropped her hand and turned back to the mountains with a blush.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, hunching forward with his elbows on his knees, "I don't know why I did that."

"I'm not angry," she smiled.

"It's just been ages," he muttered

"Since you have touched someone?"

"Pretty much."

He looked up and she was just looking at him, side-by-side with the moon. "Jareth was my first, you know. He made everything seem great. I always thought I'd never be able to be with anyone who didn't make it like that too. And when he disappeared, I decided I couldn't give away what belonged to my bond mate. I just couldn't! I thought I was in love and that I'd never feel that way again."

"And do you? For I will tell you now that I have no feelings of that kind for you, my friend."

Toby quickly shook his head, alarmed at the thought. "No. But lately I'm not so certain that I even need love. I just... I want someone to care, to let me pretend for once in my life that everything's all right in the world. Sometimes I wonder if I really loved Jareth."

She sat down beside him and took him in her arms, rocking him soothingly even though he wasn't crying. She let her fingers sift through his hair, remembering with an aching sympathy how her own doubts had assailed her after her lover had died. Had Toby not considered the extent of his love, she would have suspected him of living in a fantasy world where his delusions were what he believed in. But this signaled his reality. And whether or not the answer to his fears was 'yes' or 'no', she knew that he had seriously cared.

"Hush, lirimear," she whispered, "It will be all right. The world is all right and you are all right."

"The world has never been all right. Why does it hurt so much? Jareth once told me he would give me the world if it wouldn't burn my hand to hold it."

"Your Goblin King was very wise in many ways. That was not one of them. Do you not see- the world is never to blame for what happens, people are. And what we do to each other. Do not let your mate's bitterness become yours."

Toby looked up, pulling away slightly to squint into her face with stern eyes. "Do you know about that mysterious past of his too? Dammit, why won't anyone tell me what it is?"

Gwenél smiled and shook her brown head. "Mellon nín, you know he had some trouble in his past. Does it truly matter what it is?"

"Yes, if I can help... he's not here for me to help at all, is he? I keep forgetting." He shifted uncomfortably, a little concerned because he could feel Gwenél's small breasts pressed against his chest and it was doing unspeakable things to his self-control. "Look, I- I think you should go. I don't want to embarrass you."

She seemed to consider the thought and then, unexpectedly, shrugged. "Comfort comes in many forms. If I can help in some way, I'd like to."

From sheer instinct, Toby pushed the Lady away and got shakily to his feet, the sudden insurgence to his groin making movements uncomfortable. But he had to leave before he did something that would bring awkwardness between them. "I can't," he whispered, "Thank you, but I can't."

She nodded and stood too, patting his shoulder in a kind of blessing. "Your morality is strong," the elf maiden mused, "But you are young. My offer will stand should you think another way on another day. Yet remember- I only offer comfort; not love. I cannot love another and you have no time for that emotion now."

He nodded swiftly and watched her leave, the way her hips unconsciously moved beneath the loose tunic that she affected, the way her hair flowed down her back. Groaning he fell to his knees and fumbled with the ties on his leggings. A glimpse of silver-tinted blond hair behind his closed eyelids combined with a few quick strokes and he was done.

The earth glowed where he had spilled himself, absorbing his seed. He winced at the sight and left as soon as he had righted his clothing.

He didn't sleep that night, his chest hurting as he tossed and turned in his bed.

-------------------------------------------------

_**The words were soft, with an authoritative bite to them. They dragged him from the blanketing unconsciousness and forced his eyes open. He whimpered as he felt his weight push his abused back into the rough linen. **_

_**His Master stood over him, his full mouth still harsh and unyielding. The female stood beside him, a little uncertain but with an excited flush on her cheeks. It suited her cool beauty, bringing out the white creaminess of her skin and the colour of her eyes.**_

_**Moving as quickly as he could, he slid off the bed and knelt at his Master's feet. "I crave your pardon." His voice cracked as the tenuous scab on a welt broke open once more.**_

_**A boot-shod foot found his side and he sprawled, knowing enough to get back to position no matter how much he hurt. **_

"**_Save your apology," his Master hissed, "I want none of it. You have taken your punishment for my displeasure. Now you will ease the displeasure of my guest. You dishonoured her with your impertinence."_**

_**The lack of the word 'pet' was ample reason for him to break into immediate tears. That his Master was angry was obvious, but he had taken away his name too! He was less than no one to his Master and the dark-haired fae was his world. He bit back the tears and nodded. "I will do all you wish."**_

_**Silence and then his Master hand found his chin, raising his face up to the light. **_

"**_He cries?" The woman sounded astounded. _**

_**He looked at her amazement and at his Master's dark-eyed triumph with no little fear. Was it wrong? Had he broken the rules again? He tried to swallow the sob in his throat as he blinked the tears away.**_

"**_He cries," his Master agreed, "For me, he cries. Charming, is it not?"_**

"**_Those eyes..."_**

"**_Are better for having liquid crystals fill them._****_Though sometimes, there are other emotions to admire. Let me show you- up, pet; you are forgiven."_**

_**With a smile that would have lit the sun, he jumped to his feet and threw his arms around his Master, the tears vanishing as happiness and relief shone through. The lady gasped her shock but he was too busy staring into his Master's eyes with a shy plea trembling on his lips. The dark head nodded. Sighing deeply in his throat, he leaned forward and captured that full mouth with his, worshipping the soft lips with his until his Master's tongue came out to seek his. **_

_**The world disappeared around him. He was safe once more and his world was right again. He barely felt the female's hands dance on his shoulder blades. And by the time her nails dug sharply into the bleeding whip marks on his back, his Master was so deep inside him that the agony bled into a sickly, cloying pleasure that sucked him down into a never-ending whirlpool of sweetness. **_


	8. Five Years

Author's Note: This really does take place five years after the previous chapter. Therefore Toby has been with the elves for six years in total and Jareth has been wherever he is for six years too.

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"Arra, stop running and come back here," Toby yelled, following his daughter as she raced off towards the bathing pool.

"No," she shrieked, bouncing up and down on the banks of the little lake, her blue eyes sparkling and her blond hair flying in uneven lengths around her head. Just at the moment, she looked like a small, female version of the Goblin King on speed. And Toby was having severe palpitations about that.

"Arra, it is not time to go for a bath," he warned, approaching her slowly.

She bounced closer to the edge of the lake and laughed. "Not a bath," she called, "I want to swim. Mae showed me."

Toby cursed Maegorod in his mind in fluent goblin and then held out a hand. "I'll let you swim later if you come back with me now." Damn those elves! What the hell did Gwenél give her toffee for? Now she was hyper and wouldn't sit still.

"No," she pouted, "Now!" And with that one word, she turned, ignored her dad's shout and splashed into the water fully dressed.

Toby gave up. "Arra, please?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had a headache.

The six year old turned to look at her dad's grim face and came out, her giggles turned to sober innocence in big blue eyes. Her tunic and leggings were soaked through and her hair was plastered down around her face and neck. Now she just looked like a drowned kitten. Or Jareth having a bath... Toby felt his mind wander through memories and dropped hurriedly to his knees, hoping to hide the rather swift reaction from his body.

"You're soaked," he scolded, shaken up by his own lack of control more than his daughter's sugar high, "Naughty child!"

Arra pouted again. "Not," she said succinctly.

"Are," Toby replied in kind. Being only twenty-three had its benefits when interacting with a child of six. Shrugging out of the coat he was wearing, he wrapped her up, shivering himself in the cool autumn breeze. Arradine, however, looked bored. And well she should! She never got cold or hot; apparently Jareth's blood flowed very strongly in her veins. She was more than seventy percent immortal from what he could tell. Only a small part of her was mortal.

"You'll be the death of me," he grumbled, unconsciously remembering his mother's words when he'd done something equally stupid, "Now, come on! We're going back and you are going to sit down and help Gwenél with the sorting."

"But is boring," she protested, "I want to play."

"You may want, but you may not get. Sweetheart, Gwenél asked you to help last night and you seemed so excited. She's waiting for you to come back to start and you're holding her up. Is that fair?"

"No," the child whispered, still dragging her heels reluctantly.

Toby sighed and tugged slightly on her wet fingers. It was no use chastising her; she was a child. To Arradine, what she wanted to do last night didn't always carry over to the next day. It was his job to teach her different. And just his luck, she was still willful. "Just like your father," he heard himself say.

He felt more than saw the blue eyes turn up to his face. "My Ada?" she asked, using the elvish word for it. "How?"

"Arra..." Toby stopped and looked down. "Come on, sweetheart; I'll tell you when we're sitting down."

Dropping down the hole, Toby floated them both down and sent her running off to Gwenél's room to help with sorting the wool and thread the elf maiden had made during the summer months. Arradine was growing so fast and new winter clothes were needed for her, and Gwenél had kindly volunteered to make them. He stayed a minute staring at his hands and wondering.

All of five years had passed and no mention was made of the former Goblin King. No one would tell him anything, but not for nothing was he learning the arts of fighting from the three elves. He had a decent enough command of the sword and the bow, but much to his great disgust his skill lay with fighting knives. Once he'd gotten over the panic-stricken fear of them, they had felt almost an extension of his fingers. And because he never forgot how dangerous knives could be, he used them to full effect.

Another skill lay with swift, silent movement. Even the elves were hard-pressed to hear him now. Of course, it was all down to his animus. Being a wolf was rather calculated to give him the habit. He smiled as the thought of that. Jareth could change to animals or birds as his mood took him; Toby had one animal and no bird forms. But the animal form was now so much a part of him that it translated into his human life too. How would his husband have enjoyed that?

Well, his husband was not mentioned in any conversation. The smile faded. Jareth was alive somewhere, they knew that. But no one knew where. And no one knew why he had never returned. Maegorod and Brethiliaur had no more information than that Jareth's name was only whispered in secret amongst the goblins and that Amarild ruled from the Goblin King's castle with a firm hand, changing things that had been in existence for many thousands of centuries.

The Labyrinth was fallen. Toby had seen that himself during one of his more successful scryings. The ruins were somehow more terrifying than the danger of the Labyrinth had been.

Entering the room, he nodded to Gwenél and sat down on the bed behind his daughter, drawing her onto his lap as she attempted to untangle a skein of thick cream thread.

"All is well?" the elf maiden asked delicately.

"All is well," he replied, stroking over the blond head. Arradine had rather unusual hair, in spite of its spikes and slightly coarse texture- a seeming mixture of both her fathers than any one style. He guessed it as a moon-blond streaked gold. "Thank you for changing her."

"I changed myself," Arradine interrupted proudly, flashing him a smile over her shoulder. Before he could respond she had turned back again, this time frowning up at him, a small hand reaching up to touch his jaw. "Why're you sad?"

"Pardon? I'm not sad."

"Yes," she insisted slowly, "You are. Why?"

"Arradine, stop," he groaned, "I'm fine. Now go back to your thread."

The lower lip trembled as she turned back. Gwenel considerately stayed out of it and engaged the little girl in bright chatter about what clothes she wanted. The mortal sat where he was and dreamed sad dreams. The initial blinding misery of the denied binding had translated into the dull throb of remembrance over the years. Half of his pain seemed to have disappeared with childish fear, leaving him wondering and still worried over how much he had truly felt for Jareth.

And more to the point, how Jareth had felt for him.

"Toby?"

"Dad!"

He blinked and looked up. His daughter was staring at him disapprovingly, her straight little nose indignant as the look in her eyes. It was all too much. She would grow up to be far too much like Jareth. And he couldn't take that! He couldn't look at her and not feel guilt.

"Excuse me," he asked, pushing Arradine off and getting to his feet. The child let out a protesting squeak but he ignored it, escaping from both questioning gazes as fast as he could. Arradine didn't deserve to be snapped at because Toby was upset with himself.

"Toby."

Good God, did the elf have to follow him! "Gwenél, leave it be," he snapped shortly, "I'm not in the mood. I'll only say something..."

"You may say anything you wish, but I will still ask what is wrong."

He stopped outside his room, two seconds away from losing control of his emotions and stared at her. He saw compassion and caring in those grey eyes, and a long neck and smooth shoulders. He saw her breasts outline by the grey gown she had chosen to wear indoors for the day and the elegant fingers that lay passive at her side. And the wildness- the wealth of brown hair and the wildness. He grabbed her without thought and kissed her, raging to think that desire could make him do this. Guilt was pulsing through him and anger made him viciously grind himself even further into that black darkness. Gwenél's mouth was soft beneath his, pliant and biddable. Her mouth was warm and wet and his tongue feasted on being inside it.

She made no sound but pressed soothingly against him, almost seeming to welcome his touches.

Coherent thought hammered at him to stop. The formal binding awoke and shrieked at him to remember his husband. But he blocked them both and slammed her against the wall, not quite bothered to think it might hurt her. Long fingers rose to clasp his arms and he hated them. Hated them for their length and delicacy, hated them because they made the guilt flare just by feeling them touch him so intimately. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, sliding a knee between her legs to help with the angry seduction. He had her; he knew that.

'_Take what you need from me..._'

A vision of a feast many years ago when a Goblin King had seduced a sixteen-year-old boy... and now, like then, the seducer faltered, disgusted with himself and wresting control back before it disappeared altogether.

Toby let the female go, backing away as the blood drained from his face at the thought of what he had just done. Even his thoughts and the formal binding were silent, seeming to realize that he knew his mistake well enough.

He left then, apparating away so that he was saved from embarrassment.

Gwenél massaged her wrists and sighed. She had thought something like this would happen. And early on she had noticed that Toby never looked to the males with unconscious admiration. It was strangely puzzling, given his relationship with Jareth. But neither Brethiliaur nor Maegorod, both good-looking elves and close friends, were what the mortal seemed to find attractive.

"Ai, Elbereth," she sighed, straightening her gown as she walked slowly back to Arradine, "And guilt is a powerful aphrodisiac."

That guilt could make someone do unspeakably ridiculous things was obvious. Toby spent the entire day as a lone wolf in the forest, returning to the Place of Time with a limp and gash across his arm only to retreat to his room immediately, unable to look even Sir Didymus in the eye. Arradine he couldn't even touch, putting her away from him with a gentle hand as he saw accusation in those hurt blue eyes.

But the bed was too warm and the air cold. The mortal twisted and turned, shivering as if with a fever, sweat beading on his skin only to freeze and trickle away like ice water.

The door opened. And Gwenél entered.

"Leave," Toby muttered, "I am sorry, but I can't talk about it now."

"I do not want to talk," she said softly, "Arradine sleeps in my room so this floor of the burrow is empty but for us. Toby, I once offered to give you what comfort I could. The offer still stands. But it can only be comfort!"

"I'm not in love with you," slipped out before he could clench his jaws shut.

Surprisingly, the elf only laughed softly and sat on the bed beside him. Long fingers stroked his cheek and he sighed, feeling the heat lessen somewhat with those wonderfully cool fingers. And he discovered that there were calluses scraping over his skin, hard and rough, as Jareth's touch had been soft and supple.

"Five years is a long time without someone to touch," she said sympathetically, "If this is truly what you do not want, then I will leave. Even if you are not sure and say 'no', I will leave. Do not take this unless you want it."

"Why are you doing this?" The fingers slipped to his neck and he purred with delight. Just there was where Jareth had bitten him in the first dream they had shared while he was sent away to the Aboveground.

"I know what loneliness can be. Besides, you are young and your body needs things that may not always be what you would like to think is acceptable. But sex is a necessary part of life and six years without the touch of any but a small child can be pure torture."

"Arradine used to be enough..."

"But she cannot be everything. Toby, the bond tells you that you belong to Jareth; you know this. But the bond cannot dictate the way you live your life. It feeds off you as you feed off the bond. If you refuse its words, it cannot enforce them. And doubt always arises after the first shock of loss."

Toby opened his eyes and looked her. She knew what she was talking about, he realized. She had lost someone too. And doubted, just as he did. But she had learned her answer many years ago and he guessed that she had learned that she had loved whoever it was. And him? Well, Toby had thought for five years and he still didn't know. Was that love? It was so far away, and in spite of the sweetness, it had been so tortured and burdened that he couldn't imagine how they had survived it without killing themselves. But he couldn't think of that now. He just couldn't. He needed to forget, just for a while.

He licked his lips nervously. "Gwenél, may I?"

She smiled and lay down beside him. He looked her over, still sitting up, uncertain of himself in spite of his maturity. God, this was ridiculous! He was a virgin as far as women were concerned. Elaine had been a long time ago.

Gwenél saw the helpless look on the mortal's face and wisely decided to help. After five years, she didn't blame him for being wary of where to start. She took his hand and laid it on her arm, then pulled him down to kiss her.

Slow, sweet strokes of her tongue encouraged him further, guiding him as Jareth had never guided him, firing him with soft compliance when he took careful control. She tasted of apples and smelt like lavender, a heady combination that sank into his blood and brought back a touch of that wild, raging passion. How had this happened? What dragon had Jareth unleashed in him when he'd claimed him? Toby never remembered being this sensual before. He was meant to be practical, somewhat of a loner and somewhat cold. Then Jareth had come and he'd burned like a furnace for him, needing more and ever more. The rape had threatened to drown the fire when it had first started but Jareth had never seemed to mind that he was putting broken pieces back together. It had made the whole thing more intense, more poignant. Toby had cast Jareth in too many roles.

And now Gwenél and he ached so badly for her. Why? Was it for her or did he just ache?

He lost his train of thought as he pulled her gown away and his hands found her breasts.

Thought could wait for the morrow.

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"**_How do you feel?"_**

_**His Master looked up at that question, smiling contentedly up at him with those full lips. He felt himself smile back and that was all right too. **_

"**_I feel better," came the reply, "Your fingers are magic, my pet."_**

_**He chuckled as he continued to work the knots out of the tense shoulders. His Master had been forced to put aside his needs for work for the whole week. Little things like meetings, and then the soldiers had needed to be trained. He didn't like the soldiers, but he had to admit that they were good at what they did. Work had only finished the night before. The calluses on his Master's hands had been particularly rough on his skin the night before. He laughed a little louder as he remembered the feel of them inside him. **_

"**_What is so amusing?"_**

_**At times like these, he never addressed his Master by his title or his name. Since he never spoke to anyone else in this particular tone of voice, there was no need to when they were alone. **_

"**_You," he said cheekily._**

"**_I should spank you for that."_**

"**_You did. Yesterday."_**

"**_Ah, but today is a new day. And I am sure the bruises have faded. That ointment is very good."_**

"**_Yes, it is," he replied, giving a happy little wriggle, "The bruises have gone."_**

"**_As has that pain my shoulders._** **_You can stop now. Thank you, pet."_**

_**He caught up the hand nearest him and pressed a kiss into it. It was never all thunderclouds and whips with his Master; many times they rested like this. Times when things went right. When there was order and he could relax, concentrating on the simple things like his child and his Master. Where other people didn't intrude and confuse him. **_

"**_Have you eaten today?"_**

_**He shook his head. It was never mentioned but he had soon learned that an unspoken and unendorsed rule was that he never ate without his Master. Gorenha would bring him punctual meals, but he chose never to eat them unless his Master was away for days at a time. It put a smile into those brown eyes. **_

"**_So neglectful," his Master sighed. _**

_**Reaching to the tray, the strong fingers snagged a peach and held it out. **_

_**He took it and bit into it, the sweet juices spurting into his mouth with a delightful tingle. Eyes glowing, he swallowed and then licked his fingers before taking another bite. This time he was pulled down, and the mouthful shared between both. Everything he had was his Master's. **_

_**But then the pain in his chest intruded. His Master pulled away with a frown as he hissed and rubbed at the spot through the embroidered tunic. It wasn't usually even pain as much as something that writhed and burrowed from his skin to his heart. This time it hurt. He didn't like it and he had been getting it much too frequently as of late.**_

"**_The same ache?"_**

"**_Yes. I am sorry, I- I do not know why it happens."_**

_**His Master stayed silent, probing his mind silently for something. He stayed still and endured that pain too, so used to it that he almost liked the feeling of security. Five years since the birth of his child and the time had taught him all he needed to know about his role with this enigmatic God. Whatever it was his Master was looking for, the fairy seemed to find it- or not find it as the case may be- for he received a smile and a shake of the dark head. **_

"**_We shall go slow tonight, hmmm? Just let me touch you."_**

"**_Whatever you desire," he swore, holding out his arms to be taken. _**


	9. Raven Black

Author's Note: Dear, dear, dear... and Toby cheats on Jareth? That's not good! But then again, it is five years later.

Author's Note 2: The elfish language used is from Tolkien, as are the names. The customs are from my own insane little mind.

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"Gwenél, I think... I mean, about last night, I... um..."

The elf looked up and smiled at him. "Stop fussing," she laughed, "It was only comfort for two lonely people."

Toby blushed and dropped into the chair opposite her. "I just wanted to say thanks," he muttered, "I don't know why I did that, but I needed it. It was very good of you to put up with me."

"As I recall, I did not put up with you," she sighed, "I was a willing participant. Toby, I would not have offered it simply out of pity, you know. This pent-up emotion is never good. It would have torn you into two and then broken your concentration. And I believe we may have a plan to locate your bond mate."

Toby's ears pricked up. Six years and one night of betrayal later and he might see his husband again! "How?" he demanded breathlessly.

Gwenél pushed the bowl of something over to him to eat and shrugged. "A scrying," she said seriously.

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Archer made his way silently to the Fairy Queen's side on the parapets of the Goblin Castle. "Your Majesty," he greeted, bowing before her.

The wind whipped the chestnut brown hair around her shoulders, long and loosed from any trinkets and ornaments. The simple white gown made her look younger than her two hundred and thirty-three years. But her eyes held the wisdom and steel-like determination of a strong monarch. Jareth had frequently under-estimated her until his eventual capture. Now even in her victory she was forced to concede that the Goblin King might still have some power, some purpose.

"The Spirit still will not answer," she called, gesturing sharply to the ruins around the Castle, "I have destroyed its defences. I have cowed it and made it weak. But it still will not answer to me."

Archer sighed. The problem with the Fairy Queen, he knew, was that she thought Jareth had only commanded it for it to happen. Most had thought that, including Sarah. It was never the way his cousin, or the previous Goblin Kings, had worked. One had to manipulate to get what one wanted.

It would be no good explaining so to her. "It has no need to, my Queen," he shouted over the roar of the wind, "The Spirit is bound to no one, not even Jareth. It will only answer should it so wish to."

She thought about that, still and silent on the parapet, drawing her own power back into herself so that the wind died down and gentled to a caressing breeze. It wrapped itself around her neck and shoulders, soothing her like a living thing. The Goblin Kingdom was a vexatious place, she mourned, a wild land quite apart from its coarse inhabitants and creatures. It had taken many good soldiers to pin the fieries down and cage them. And the doors had had to be dismantled and stowed in the empty granaries that should have been filled with the rich produce of the soil. Nothing had gone according to plan since Jareth had accused her of plotting to ruin his bond mate.

She remembered the small, slender blond mortal boy who had sauntered around the ballroom over six years ago. The memories were not much, being overshadowed by other, more interesting people and a velvet mask, but they were enough to tell her that anyone might have been to blame. The consort of the Goblin King... for any who thought in ways of possession, such a prize was worth much effort. It was also entirely possible that the mortal had, er, fallen from his throne for a quick roll in the dirt and lied about it. Jareth had struck her as being blind, for all his remarkable insight. Though, if what she remembered was true, and if that goblin healer was to be believed, there had indeed been a rapist. And having seen evidence over the years, she suspected she knew who the rapist might have been.

"Tell me, Archer, has no trace been found of Jareth's consort?" she asked casually.

"No trace," the fairy Lord agreed, staring around the Kingdom. It was always an option, he mused, to instigate an uprising against Amarild. The goblins would flock to him with the right incentive, which he could well provide, and he would rule. With or without the medallion he would rule. But did he want the responsibility? Well, yes. But not yet. Everything had its time and place as he well knew. And the Kingship would come when the time was right.

"Archer."

He turned, an eyebrow raised to hear that dark tone in his Queen's voice. Lately he had heard it more often than he cared to. He suppressed a smirk; clearly it had changed when she had seen his pet.

"Archer, if I find that the mortal and his child have been in your keeping for these five years, I will be furious," she said slowly, "Whatever the price is, I will exact my revenge for that."

Archer shrugged indolently and turned back to stare at his future Kingdom. He knew she suspected. Had Jareth been less blinded, Jareth might have too. Who else had had complete access to the Castle at any and all times? Who else would know the best times to attack and not? And truly, who else had the disposition? Oh yes, Jareth should have known that particular enemy, not least because Archer had never actually striven to conceal his wants and opinions. Expressed them a little ambiguously, perhaps, but he had touched and Jareth had known it. How could he not? He must have. And he had touched back, even if he had not fully wanted to.

Archer was fully intending to bring the Goblin King back up to light. But only when Jareth was ready to face that. When he had stopped protecting that last little segment of his mind, possibly.

"Why?"

He turned back to look at Amarild. "Pardon, your Majesty? I fear I was deep in thought," he murmured blandly. He kept his eyes fixed on hers, daring her to intrude where she was not likely to be welcome or reassured.

"Why did you not control yourself where the human was concerned?" she clarified, not in the least scared. Never mind the threat he pretended to hold over her, in a face-to-face battle she was still the more powerful. With a snap of her fingers she could break his long neck. "The Goblin King accused me of orchestrating such a vile deed."

"Vile? No, not really. The child was ripe for it, had you but seen him when I did." Now, so long since Archer had seen him and he still felt it. "It was an amusement for a time of long waiting. Such as a score of others before him. Besides, Jareth shared what was his. It was always our way."

Amarild snorted and paced to the other side of the open space. "This one he kept, Archer," she called, "Even broken as I have no doubt you left him. What did you do to him?"

At first there was no reply. The male simply stood there, smiling at nothing as his eyes looked to a picture she could not see. When he spoke, it was in a voice rich with darkness and gloating pleasure. "The Children of the Sun are so easily drawn to the darkness. The child was a simple whore, taking what was not his to take. All the others were punished for it in some way; they knew better than to ask for more than to share his bed. But this one... this one dared to capture more than his fancy. At first it was an interest. Then Jareth became emotionally attached. It had to end before he threw his life away."

"I imagine you mean you tried to kill the child and didn't succeed. Yet you sanctioned their formal binding. I cannot think that the Goblin King would not come to ask for your blessing. The poor fool trusted you with all he had. Knowing him, he would have left his consort with you in the belief that you would protect him."

Archer chuckled, enjoying the irony as much as Amarild loathed it. He had no illusions as to how far into evil he had had to go to act this way. But in the end he had been rewarded. He had achieved his prize and he had truly enjoyed his games with Toby. The child had been so unbelievably sweet, ripe and ready, the virgin fruit picked fresh from the vine. The anger and fear in his blue eyes dissolving into tears of pain. All of it was life, passion- Archer had taught the child life in one swift passage of time.

"Oh, I sanctioned a formal binding. After all, why should my cousin not amuse himself? The child made him happy for the time. I will admit that the mortal drew me in as well. Jareth was right; he did have a way about him. The innocence was so tangible. And his delicate beauty- not the conventional style as I think you remember, but a kind of vivid golden glow that my cousin called fire-blond. The thought of that innocence swollen with the outcome of lust... I simply had to see it. The look on his face when I touched his pregnant belly was priceless."

Amarild swallowed her revulsion thickly. It had been enough to try to sound politely enthusiastic when congratulating the couple themselves, but to hear Archer describe it baldly as a fascinating new outlet for his sensuality was very hard. She wanted to stop her ears and deny the entire thing. But being a Queen ensured that she heard things that she didn't necessarily want to. And this was important.

The deep voice continued. "And do you know the most glorious irony- he has no attraction to males." He looked to his audience's frown and laughed. "'Tis true, my Queen. The child had no attraction to males; Jareth informed me of that from the beginning. Even had I wooed him he would have rejected me. The only male he responds to is my cousin, and not out of choice. So I didn't expect him to react."

"The mortal will never be given to you," Amarild said quietly, "If he is taken alive, he will remain in my custody. And should any harm him, I will hold you responsible. The Goblin King I cannot now touch; he is too deeply embedded in your spider's web. But rest assured that such insanity will no longer be tolerated in my Kingdom. No noble of my court will walk the Underground molesting children because they are innocent and beautiful."

"You forget, your Majesty, you molested an innocent too."

The Queen flushed and turned away. Whatever had made her drink that wine, she wished now that she hadn't. The beverage had been potent, burning her good sense away like liquid fire. And the poor shivering creature had been tormented and punished before their eyes until he passed out, eyes shutting in agony and despair. On some level she had connected with the insanity that fired Archer's blood, to have that broken creature at her very feet, waiting for the scraps of kindness she chose to bestow on him. And when Archer had offered, she had agreed. She had watched as he danced that most private of dances in her nobleman's arms, lost to everything except the pleasure that such submission brought him. And for one night she had taken him down with her into the pits of hell.

"That was six years ago," she snapped, pushing the unpleasantness away from her mind, "And I regret that night with all of my being."

"Do you really? How weak of you. Darkness has its merits; it brings a strength and determination that cannot be matched by the so-called light."

She looked at him sadly. Whatever the Goblin King had first responded to in this fairy, it was either lost or just a screen. "You are far-gone indeed, my Lord. My work is done here. I believe there is more to do downstairs."

Archer shrugged and let her go. He had never sought to tell her, as it was. The laughter bubbled up in him as he tried to imagine the rage that Toby would doubtless experience if he were to be told of it. At times, Archer longed to do just that- pull the masks away and take him against a wall. And this time, when that pretty face twisted in agony, it would look to him and not to some faceless monster. The exhilaration of that sight would be beautiful beyond all measure. But then what was that old elfish saying- knowledge is power? Yes, and to give Toby knowledge was to give him power such as Archer could not afford.

And yet...

Archer smiled to himself, absently brushing a speck of dust from his long leather coat. And yet the child was still young. He would never gain mercy or respect or even kindness with Archer, just as Archer knew that Toby would never respond to him with anything but revulsion- or indifference at most- but he would be there, a pretty toy to play with on a cold winter's day. And he had his other uses too. For Jareth. For when the time was right and ripe and ready to be used.

The Fairy Lord smiled and left, sinking through the stone fortress to reach his own palace away in the Fairy Kingdom. Amarild rested her head in her hands and wondered how hell had been brought to the Underground by such a demented monster.

-----------------------------------------------

Toby stared nervously at his medium. He didn't quite like to do a scrying. It was an elfish magic, not the kind that came naturally enough once he learned to access it.

Gwenél, Brethiliaur and Maegorod sat with him, surrounding the wide basin of water with its runes and carved incantations to the Valar. Never had they attempted to do something of such magnitude, for Toby had tried to access his husband before and had been defeated by a stone wall of magic of great strength. Trying to circumvent it using natural magicks was tricky and far too likely to fail, but it was worth a try.

"Focus," Maegorod instructed softly, "Unless you would prefer if one of us does this?"

"No. I can do it. Just give me a minute." He breathed deeply, closing his eyes to meditate into a calming rhythm. He had no idea whether his idea would work and that worried him. What made it worse was the hope that the scrying would work, and that no one knew what they would see once it did. Jareth might be happy now, his responsibilities and shackles thrown away. For all Toby knew, the wall had been set there by Jareth himself, seeking to shield himself from unwanted interruptions to his own life. "All right. Let's get started."

Each pricked their finger and dripped a single drop of blood into the water. It tinged pink and then Toby picked up his hunting knife. Drawing it over the exact line of the scar on his right palm, he remembered when that mark had been made by his husband, when Jareth had comforted a terrified child in front of his entire Kingdom and offered to call off the entire ceremony because Toby wasn't comfortable. That person could never have simply left his family on a selfish whim. Or could he? The blood dripped more freely into the water, his essence taking the authoritative lead in the spell. Anything was possible in the Underground.

A few minutes' silence held as the water settled and then Toby dipped the tip of his finger into the middle, making ripples. He began to call silently upon the magic of nature to answer his call. Beside him, the three elves began a mournful chant to the Gods, pleading with them to intervene for them. The Gods were, after all, all-powerful. And Toby shut his eyes and let the channel of the bloodied water carry him far away.

The chanting continued somewhere outside of his head as he focused his attention. The water lapped quietly in the basin, disturbed as the magic coursed through the room to settle into the basin.

Toby pictured his husband, trying to recall a three-dimensional image of him. Everything that Jareth was, he thought of. He thought of the cold superiority, the pride, the selfishness, the love, the loneliness, the desire, the sensuality, the tenderness, the happiness, the austere elegance, the opulent extravagance- everything.

"It works," Brethiliaur said softly, pointing to the basin.

There was no shine on this water. The water had turned a brackish black, like petrol had settled on its surface with wet slickness. The ripples had stilled and now only perfect calm graced the mirror it reflected.

"Toby, you must look for this to work," Maegorod said softly, touching the young man's shoulder to draw his attention. The shoulder was rigid beneath his finger, clearly fighting something. The elf guessed it was an inner battle more than a real one. After all, uncertainty and darkness was still capable of making the mortal run away, even with his new-found maturity. "Come, mellon nín, you must look."

Toby opened his eyes and looked. Instantly the water began to darken and clear at the same time, a pinpoint spreading over its surface until the colours separated to form an image.

The image was bare.

Toby felt his shoulders slump. "It hasn't worked," he sighed, ruffling his fingers over his cropped hair. His tunic felt too thin on his body, leeched as he had been energy and drained.

The elves sat back, clearly in a similar state. Brethiliaur even wiped at his brow with the back of his hand, huffing a little. Slowly the image began to dissipate when he took another look. Gasping, he drew their attention back.

"Not yet," he called, "Look! Where is that?"

"That?" Gwenél frowned as the image swam back into focus. "That is a palace. I do not know which one, but..."

Toby went deathly pale. "The tulip," he whispered, hand going to his neck even when he knew that the necklace had been crushed long ago, "Gods, the standard of the tulip! Jareth told me... the- the fairies. Is that Amarild's palace?"

The elves were at a loss at to why the standard should make such a difference but they obligingly considered his question before shaking their heads. "No," Maegorod disagreed, "That is too secluded. The Queen's palace is in a populated capital, the focal point of the entire country. This one seems to rest somewhere in the hills to the other side of the country, closer to the docks."

"The docks? There's a sea?"

"Well, yes. The fairies have traded with the countries across the seas for many millennia. They have a love for the exotic."

A love for the exotic... yes, Toby thought bitterly, exotic being that which is not always available and often considered rare. Like the male mortal child bonded to the Goblin King- rare.

"Can we not find where this is?"

"Where it is no longer matters," Brethiliaur snapped impatiently, "Look to the window. There! The movement."

"Your eyesight, Brethiliaur, is better than ours," Gwenél grumbled, leaning so close she was in danger of shoving her nose into the water, "I see nothing!"

"That is because you are as blind as a bat," the dark-haired elf growled. Pushing her away, he pulled Toby closer. "Watch my finger," he warned, and then pointed to the tiny point of the window in the tower at the centre of the fortified palace. "Do you see the movement? Someone watches and waits at that window. Can you see it?"

Toby peered but shook his head helplessly. "I don't have elfish eyes," he protested, "But I believe you. So the point is, is that Jareth?"

All three looked to Brethiliaur as he shrugged. "The person is dark-haired," he surmised, "With very pale skin. Other than that, I can see nothing more."

Toby huffed. "That can't be Jareth, then. Jareth's a blond. Nothing close to brunette."

"I do not know," Gwenél mused, pursing her mouth as she continued to stare at the water, "Why would this be shown to us unless there was something of what we want in it?"

Maegorod answered for them, stretching the kinks from his back. "You know that there is no guarantee that the information is what we need. Even one minute point missing from the direction that Toby sets and the results are not what we require."

Brethiliaur still shook his head. "Gwenél may be right, however. If we are supplying this much energy, we can spare a bit more. Perhaps we may bring the person in the window into focus."

"Look, that person in the window could be Archer for all I know," Toby tried to say. But under the expectant gaze of grey eyes, hazel eyes and (?)eyes, he sighed and gave up. The elves were too optimistic sometimes for their own good. Himself, he had stopped believing in this three years ago.

"All right, what do I do? Add more blood?"

"No. Just concentrate and think harder. This time, be guided by me. Follow my words and this should work." Brethiliaur's soft voice was even softer, buzzing around the room like a whisper of wind. "Think of how Jareth sounds, the roll of his 'r' and the rasp of his 's'. Think of how his words are phrased and picture the way his mouth moves when he speaks them. Think of how he gestures when he talks and the moods which he conveys with his body. Think of how his skin feels beneath your hands, how he looks dressed and undressed. How he looks when he is dressing and what his favourite colours are. Think of how he is in anger and rage. Think of the manner in which he treats his goblins. Think of how he tastes- his mouth, his skin, his hair, his semen... everything. Think of how his mind feels sliding against yours, how his body fits against yours..."

The words droned on, a lulling hypnosis almost and Toby followed blindly, hit by such a wave of memories that he would have been hard-pressed not to follow his instructions. And slowly he felt a more perfect picture form. Had he thought his remembrance before was three-dimensional? It was dim and flat compared to how he saw his husband now! Shining with that glow that was unique to all creatures. Jareth's aura called so deep to him on this level, keening through time and space like the soft wail that had sprung forth the first and last time he had taken his husband. The way Jareth had felt clenched around him, the tight heat and the sweet velvet depths. Nothing had ever felt as good. Not even Gwenél, for all the attraction he felt for her, could ever feel that good. And not because she had responded any less fervently or had been any less giving, but because he didn't feel the same desire.

Triple gasps sprang up around him and he opened his eyes in enquiry as Brethiliaur's voice stopped abruptly. They were staring at the bowl and without thought his eyes dropped to the reflection on the ominous surface.

The window was in full view now; the figure was reading a book, hair tossed and wild around his thin, pale face. A slender white throat was circled by a deep red band of a kind that looked, horrifically enough, like some brand of collar. It even had a ring set in the front as if designed to attach to a leash. A black silk robe seemed to make the skin seem even paler, more luminous. The book lowered slightly as the figure shifted to a better position.

The hair fell over the sharp cheekbones, but the hiding had taken place too late; all had seen.

Toby actually felt the pain like a kick in the stomach. Even the pangs of childbirth had never been this agonizing. "His hair," he whispered, reaching out as if to touch even though his fingers remained hovering only inches away from the water, "God, his hair! It's black? But... I don't understand."

"Toby, it may not be right."

"Well, then that's his evil twin?" he spat, looking up with his eyes burning. With anger? With tears? Who knew? He certainly didn't. "Who the fuck is that?"

The wind picked up and he felt nature tremble as his magic began to fire with his emotions. The Goblin Kingdom was probably suffering by this point. Without warning, his hand swept out and the water splashed out of the basin with the force of his blow. The image vanished with a hiss and nature crept back to its own.

The elves moved away discreetly. Toby was already flickering in and out of his animal form, growling and dry-sobbing by turns as he murmured questions to himself and the Gods.

They crept away, the precious basin carried away with them. The sounds of enraged screaming followed them down the hallways, along with the scratch of claws on wood. They said nothing until they were away.

"Why dark hair?" Gwenél finally asked.

Maegorod shook his head in puzzlement. "A disguise?" he suggested, "It will be hard on the child."

"Both of them," Brethiliaur added, "Arradine should know."

They said nothing more on the subject.


	10. The Long Journey

Author's Note: Sorry I'm taking so long to update but I have assignments and exams scheduled for the next few weeks. That, and the chapters are a little complex for me. So forgive me in advance. I promise to update again by the end of the week.

Translation: iel nín- my daughter

Saes- please (though this is apparently a bastard mutilation of the language and is not at all of the High Elven language; it's possibly grey-evlish, which is a whole other story.)

pen-neth- little one/ young one

mellon nín- my friend

-----------------------------------------------

"Daddy, where are we going?"

Toby looked around and smiled reassuringly, if somewhat absently. "We have to leave, Arra. We have to go somewhere else."

"Is Hoggle coming?" she asked excitedly, picking up a flask and waving it around, "And Ludo?"

"Yes, and Sir Didymus and Ambrosius," he answered wryly. Silently he wished Hoggle had agreed to stay back with the other two; this journey was no place for defenseless little people and if they had stayed, then Arra could have stayed with them. He tugged the flask out of her hand and put it back down on the bed. He went back to the sketchy map Brethiliaur had apologetically given him and traced the marked route with his finger. "We're all going."

"Gwenél too?"

Blue eyes looked up sharply. "No," Toby murmured, looking away, "The elves will stay here. They need to collect stores for winter."

Winter was coming up, and then spring after, when there would be light rainfall. Or was that in summer? Summer would be hot, though with the coverage of mountains and forests, he rather suspected it would stay cool. Toby pondered the balance between carrying what they needed and traveling light.

"Gwenél will not come too?"

"No, Arradine, Gwenél, like the other elves, is staying here. Saes, iel nín, let me finish this."

"I like her."

The mortal winced and finished tracing the route on the map. "I like her too. But she can't come. Would you like to stay here, pen-neth?"

Arradine shook her blond head and trotted around the room, singing to herself as she fiddled with things. As there was not much, she soon got bored. By which point her dad had walked to get something from a drawer and foolishly left it open. There were things in drawers that she wasn't allowed to touch. She knew that. But this was an open drawer and she only wanted to look. All it had, however, were some small blankets and dark hooded cloaks.

She judged it safe to stick her hand into the drawer but frowned when she felt metal. She pulled her hand out and looked again. There were only small blankets and dark hooded cloaks. She put her hand back in and felt around, nudging cloth aside to find the bumps she had touched before.

Childhood-callous fingers found a thin chain and yanked.

"Arra, put that down!"

She dropped it in fright, startled by the yell from behind her. The medallion clattered to the floor and skidded almost under the wooden bureau.

Toby bent down and picked it up, carefully checking for scratches or injuries to the heirloom. The medallion was unharmed. One guarded look at his daughter's face and he knew she would not touch it again without his permission. She was frightened.

"Arradine," he said gently, "This is not a toy. I don't want you playing with it, okay?"

She nodded her head and glared uncertainly at the innocent object in his hands. "What is it?" she finally asked cautiously, "Is pretty."

"Is very pretty," Toby agreed, "It's called the medallion of Office for the Goblin Kingdom. It belonged to your father."

"My Ada?"

"Yeah. When he went to war, he gave it to me to keep safe. I hid it when we ran away so that no one could steal it. You can hold it if you like, but be careful. And don't take it out of this room."

He handed it over and turned his back. His pack was done, so far as he could tell. If it got too heavy he could always ask Ludo to carry it for a while. Ludo was so abominably strong that he would probably not even notice it if it were strapped to his arm or his back. And Arradine- he really worried about taking her anywhere out of this safe place. But he couldn't leave her alone with the three elves. For one thing, because it simply wasn't fair to Gwenél, Brethiliaur or Maegorod; they had put themselves in danger for long enough as it was. Now it was his turn to go ahead and do something.

"Dad, what is the med- medallion for? Is it magic?"

Blue eyes looked so serious that he didn't have the heart to fob her off with something vague. So he sat down and pulled her close, taking the medallion from her to swing on his fingers. "It's not magic. But the King wears it," he began, "It tells everyone else that he is the King and that they have to listen to him."

Arradine seemed to process that thought. "Do I have to listen to him?"

"Yes," Toby said firmly, "You do. He is your father and your King. You have to."

The straight little nose wrinkled. "But what if he wants me to do something I don't like?"

The medallion glowed in the soft autumn light, glittering with its metallic shine in the room filled with elegant woods and earth colours. Toby could almost see the white skin it used to lie against, and without conscious thought he smiled, remembering how he used it to push it away to lay his ear against the beating heart. Dimly he recalled the exact beat, the way it sounded like the slow turning of the earth itself.

"Dad!"

He blinked and looked down. Arradine didn't like being ignored. He laughed and tweaked her nose. "Sorry, sweetheart. I was thinking."

"About what?"

He looked down to the innocent face. And yet, not so innocent- not with those eyes. They were entirely too knowing. Brethiliaur had told him how he had fallen pregnant, had explained the basics of the magic to him and how the child was formed by it. A merger, he called it, when magicks and bodies and auras were forced together so closely that a new life was formed. The child took the characteristics of the most dominant personality of the time. And it was palpably obvious that Arradine was Jareth's daughter. An outcome of extremities. Normal people didn't have to go to extremes to have children, but Toby was aware that nothing in that relationship had been normal. Jareth wasn't normal.

"About finding your father again so we could go home."

She nodded sagely and waited for him to go on.

But how could he describe the former Goblin King to a child of six who had no idea of any world outside of the one she lived in? She had never even seen a goblin! So he summoned a crystal and called upon his memories.

Arradine gasped at the picture of the two males dancing together. The smaller one looked like her dad, with his thin energy and his wide smile. She couldn't see his face so she didn't know. But the other one... oh, the other one was the most interesting: a tall, graceful male with sharp, sculpted features and long-legged grace, dressed in elaborate black clothes that showed off the lean curves she was too young to appreciate. But he did look handsome, even to her eyes, and something lurked in his face that seemed so familiar.

"That tall one is your father," Toby said gently. "That's me," he added as an afterthought, pointing to how he had been.

Arradine touched the crystal and it popped, vanishing away into thin air with a quiet hiss. She made a tiny sound of displeasure but knew better than to ask for another crystal. "He looks nice," she remarked cautiously.

"He looks very nice," Toby agreed sympathetically, "He looks even better in real life."

"Will he like me?"

"He'll love you. You're rather loveable, sweetheart."

She giggled as her dad tickled her and squirmed on the bed, bouncing away to sit in the middle where he couldn't reach her unless he crawled to her. And since he didn't seem in the mood to play, she wanted to have the conversation continue. For obvious reasons she had never heard very much about her father beyond the basics. Something told her that her dad hurt where her father was concerned.

"Tell me more," she begged.

"Well, his eyes are two different colours."

"No, they're not!"

"Yes, they are," he replied in kind, mimicking her high-pitched squeak, "One is blue and one is brown. He has blond hair like yours, too. Did you know that? In fact, you look a lot like him." He always fell back on that one, finding it hard to think of things she might be interested in.

"He looks like me?"

"No, it's the other way around, Arra. He's older than you and he's your father. So you look like him."

She looked confused.

"Never mind." Toby fiddled with some of the other items on his bed. "He's very smart. And he likes to read. What else? Oh, he has a deep voice that sounds like this." He did his best imitation of his husband, attempting to capture the pleasant tenor and its rich, ragged ends.

Arradine giggled and he stopped, smiling along with her. She was such a picture, her leggings patched around the knees and the pins falling out of her hair. Her feet were leaving dust trails on the sheets because she always did forget to put her shoes on in the burrow.

She liked Gwenél, came the unbidden thought, and Gwenél was a mother-figure of a sort. Toby liked Gwenél too, and it would be easy to stay. Neither Brethiliaur or Maegorod would interfere in their affairs and even Sir Didymus thought he was a little insane to go jumping into another mad escapade with a six-year-old in tow. They wouldn't have to lie to each other or pretend to be in love. She was helping to raise Arra in any case and it might work out for a few more years. Once Arradine was old enough Toby could look to go off on his own to find Jareth, or Jareth might come back, or there might be some news somewhere of what the situation was.

"Dad, is Ada human too?"

"No, he's a half-goblin," he said thoughtlessly.

"What does a goblin look like?"

He absently gave her another crystal. This one he put into her hands so she could hold it and stare for as long as she liked while he thought a few morbid thoughts out.

There was silence for ten seconds before she came back to him, gave him back the crystal, closed his fingers over it quite firmly and said, "They look ugly," in a scornful voice.

"Arra!"

"They do."

"Don't you let me hear that from you again," he warned, banishing the crystal, "You've no right to call anyone ugly. The goblins just don't look like you and me, that's all. That's not ugly. Are we clear?"

"Yes. But Dad, why doesn't Ada look like them if he's a goblin?"

Toby looked at her and shrugged. "I don't think you'll understand," he admitted, "He's also a half-fairy. His mother was a fairy; his father was a goblin. That's enough of a story for now. I have work to do. Go find Ludo and play with him."

"But- but what does Ada like? Does he laugh? Can he use a sword like Maegorod? Can he sing like Brethiliaur? And why did he go away?"

Oh. The million-dollar question. Toby had asked himself that question every night for a long time now. Why had he left? Why didn't he come back? Why had he left his family in danger? "He was captured, Arradine, during the war. We're going to rescue him now."

"We are?" She seemed positively delighted. "An adventure!"

"Don't look so excited. I should leave you here," Toby interrupted wryly. The flooding cries of 'no' and 'please, dad' and he was forced to cede. "Very well, then, yes. We'll have an adventure. But you have to promise me to be very quiet and listen to everything I say."

"I promise," she agreed happily, proceeding to bounce on the bed until Toby saved the poor piece of furniture by threatening to make her eat a pear. It effectively stopped her since she ran away squeaking, clattering down the twisting corridors in all good faith. Toby watched her vanish with a small smile, unable to find it in himself to seriously be angry. She was just a six-year-old; she wasn't meant to be sensible.

The smile vanished just a little at the word. 'Sensible'. How sensible was he being on this mad quest? From the look of the Castle, Jareth seemed to be living in relative comfort, reading books and lazing around while his people were oppressed and his family had a price on their heads. Why had he never returned? It didn't look like he was particularly uncomfortable and the magic that blocked Toby from reaching him felt frighteningly like Jareth's own, poor though Toby's intuitions still were.

Yes, perhaps sensible was the wrong word. 'Mad', maybe, he decided, or 'blindly optimistic', but not sensible. After all, if he were sensible, he wouldn't find himself outside Gwenél's bedroom every night, silent and stiff until she allowed him into her bed. No, and he wouldn't forget everything as he lay on top of her and kissed her mouth as she soothed him. And he wouldn't do something like that if he loved his husband enough to go to him come hell or high water.

But then Maegorod said something very interesting- "You have grown, mellon nín. I find you much changed since you came."

The world began to make a bit more sense.


	11. It Never Happened

Author's Note: Men! They really are cretins sometimes!

lirimaer- lovely one (approx.)

-----------------------------------------

Well...

Toby stared up at the ceiling and decided he was too tired and far too warm to move. His bed tended to be cold in autumn and winter. And he hated that cold. At first, Arradine had often crawled into his bed at night, wanting the comfort of her dad's touch; he had never thought to question just how much comfort he got from her. But now that was finished. Arradine dreamed pleasant dreams in her own bed in the room next to his and hardly ever stirred at night. Unless there was a storm, in which case she couldn't sleep for fear of missing what was essentially nature's fireworks display.

So he shut his eyes and hoped Gwenél was already asleep.

A callused finger brushed his collarbone. No. Not asleep, then. He opened his eyes and sighed, preparing to drag himself out from under the covers and go back to where he should have been in the first place. But it was so difficult!

"Do all humans worry so very much, lirimaer?"

"No, sometimes we manage to enjoy ourselves," he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. It was short now; cut into a neat, mature style that reminded him of the guy Sarah had introduced him to who worked with her at her first and last full-time job. It was frustrating to think he was old enough for that haircut anyway. And frustrating that he still clung with some desperation to his human roots.

Gwenél shifted slightly to look up at him. "Toby, you really must stop worrying," she urged, "You will have no rest like this."

"I'm not going to get much either way. Sorry, Gwenél; I'll let you get some sleep." He made to get up- really he did- but when the elf pulled him back he found he didn't really want to struggle. So he let himself be pulled back, settling against the soft body that wrapped around him with a gentle, calm touch.

Gwenél, for her part, was not quite sure what to say. So she simply held him, leaning into his back with her chin on his shoulder and her legs around his waist. It still surprised her that he was so heavy. He looked far too elfish for the weight that pressed her down.

Now, at the best of times, breathing together was very restful. She often soothed him so, matching her breathing to his quite calmly. This was not the best of times. He was far too confused, both personally and with his duties to his adopted world, and something was gnawing at his mind just under the façade of his blank silence. Gwenél could feel it drive his actions at those moments just when the frenzy was more important than his self-control. She was spared her part in his duties, but she wanted to help. Toby carried too many decisions and he was not the person to she would have picked to bear them.

Toby agreed with that sentiment. Since Jareth, he had spent his life acclimatizing himself to being taken care of. Most of the time, it simply meant adjusting to Jareth's already-prescribed way of life. In the Place of Time, he lived as the elves did, ever mindful of Arradine's needs. But to make decisions involving death and politics and social change was beyond his abilities. Worse, even had that burden not been so great, the night was not dark enough to hide the essential point in the whole affair that labelled it 'wrong'. It was wrong. And sitting together in that intimate embrace was wrong. His fear of one impossible situation had driven him into another. But if he left this embrace… there was Jareth to face. And the damage had been done.

Gwenel patted his shoulder. "How many times must I tell you that this is nothing with shame?" she sighed, "This is a sharing of companionship, not an act of love. You have nothing to fear from me."

That snapped some thin thread of control just a little. "I'm not afraid! I know what I'm doing, dammit! Stop treating me like a child!" He wasn't a child, not with those decisions to make. He couldn't afford to be a child when he was raising a child and raising a Queen.

"I have never..."

"Yes, you have." A quick wrench and then he was picking his clothes off the floor, dressing with hands that shook so hard the ties and clasps were impossible to manage. "You do. You and Jareth both- I'm not a bloody child."

She blinked at him, worried. "I never considered you a child."

He looked up sharply. "Well, then maybe you should have," he growled. That seemed to confuse her more but it was night and he was tired. "I'm going to bed. And never mind whether Brethiliaur can find out where that stupid palace is, tomorrow I'm making plans to leave."

She tried once more- "Toby..."

"No! Stop telling me how to run my life."

"Listen!"

He stopped short and stared at her, challenging her to say something. Anything. But he wasn't going to help her.

Taking a few calming breathes, Gwenél pulled the sheets up around her and tried to think of a way to explain herself without upsetting Toby even more. "You're angry," she ventured, "I know you hurt. We all feel for your position in this. I saw the scrying too and we- all three of us- can understand the hurt and anger you must be feeling. Yet running straight to Jareth might be very dangerous. Taking Arradine will be even more so. Think, mellon nín; we only want to help you. Do not keep pushing us away."

"Help?" Toby came closer and leaned over, angry even though he couldn't have given a reason for love or money. "So you'd lie on your back and spread your legs for the sake of the Underground, is that it? Well, you've certainly done your part, now, haven't you? Thanks so very much! I'll be sure to talk about your generosity with my husband, the one I married, the one who fathered a child with me!"

The shout died away to a brief echo.

Gwenél almost punched the mortal on the nose for not speaking sooner. She couldn't believe he had only taken this out of guilt.

"I'm married, Gwenél. I don't know how elves feel about that, but my mom was pretty specific that it meant being completely faithful to the one you promised to share your life with."

"No one in the Underground makes such a promise." The words were out before she had stopped herself. The darkness seemed too oppressive suddenly and she fumbled quickly for a light when Toby drew back from her with a sharp intake of breath. "Toby, I am sorry. I assumed that humans were much the same. I didn't think that you…"

"Is that true? Marriage here isn't just for two people?"

"No, no, it is. Toby, it is just for two people. You must believe that. Two people are bound in the eyes of their world to each other and they live as such, sharing their lives and what comes with it."

"But you're right... Jareth never promised to be faithful. He never said anything about loving me and honouring me and whatever other crap it is that we mortals say for our marriages. All he did was bind with me and say he did it willingly. He never promised to be faithful."

Too many words, too many feelings- all rushing around in his head and giving him a migraine. He wondered bleakly if banging his head on the wall would help but didn't think he had the strength to look for a hard root in the earth walls. The door? Too far. He sat down and groaned; digging his fingers into his eyes to ease the pressure somewhat.

Gwenél touched the heated brow hurriedly. It felt like a fever lay on the mortal, which would explain the mood swings, surely?

Unexpectedly Toby heard those thoughts. Or sensed them from the close contact. "I'm not sick. I'm just tired. I haven't slept too well lately," he said.

What could she do? Now was hardly the time to order him to his own room; not after what she had allowed to happen, thinking it might help clear his mind. She could only talk and hope to put things right. "Toby, you have been upset ever since the scrying."

Toby looked back down again. He didn't want to talk about this. He really didn't want to talk. Gwenél was there and she was beautiful. "I saw him look happy," he admitted, "He was relaxed, like he was happy. Wherever he is, he wanted to be there. So why should I bring him back? He was always too selfish and too proud to really want to have anything to do with being a king. He did it because he had to. He was content, I think, being King and knowing he wasn't married to someone whom he despised. But he wasn't happy. He seemed happy in the scrying."

"Did he? I do not know your bond mate; I could not tell." She combed her fingers through the short golden hair. "Do you still doubt what Jareth intended by you?"

Toby shrugged. "Whatever he intended by me is irrelevant. He's not here. He's in some castle somewhere and hasn't bothered to try and find me. To be fair, I'm here with you and I haven't bothered much either. That feels wrong."

"Would you go back to him?"

"He has to ask, but yes."

"For Arradine?" Gwenel stressed.

"There's Arra to think about, sure, and I'd like her to have a good home if I can manage it, preferably with both parents. But I want him back. He's mine. Archer once asked me if I would leave Jareth if I knew he'd be happier without me. I said no."

Gwenél frowned. "Why no?" she asked.

Blue eyes looked at her as if the answer were the most obvious in the world. "Whether or not we love each other is beside the point. We're bond mates and that's something that goes beyond any emotion. He feels me and I feel him; no one else understands us like we do. I'm not giving that up."

"He needed you," Gwenél interpreted, "And you need him."

"Yes. Well, I'm only comfortable when he's around. Being in love with him... I'm not so sure. You're right; I'm angry with him. In fact I'm furious with him. He had no right not to come back."

"He was captured, was he not?"

Toby snorted and yanked the blankets up to keep warm, picking at the soft wool with absent fingers. "Did it look like the dungeons to you? He was reading in a window seat for God's sake! In a silk robe! How captive can that be?"

He did have a point. The former Goblin King had not sounded like the kind who would take capture so well, even six years later. And there was the matter of the dyed-black hair. Was it a disguise? And had he adopted it or had someone forced it on him?

"... and he's magically strong enough to fight anyone who dares to force him."

She shook her brown head as she realized she had just missed the entire conversation. "Pardon?"

Toby bounced on the bed in frustration and pulled the blankets closer as the wind pushed at the windows. "His magic," he repeated, "Jareth's very strong, that way. He could probably have fought that stupid war on his own, only he said something about tradition and honour. I didn't even know Jareth knew what honour was until then."

Gwenél laughed at the comment. "My father always remarked that honour was a singularly difficult emotion for Jareth. He was baffled by the way the Goblin King discarded some ideals and adopted others, seemingly with no set pattern."

Toby joined in too, chuckling as he nodded. "He wouldn't ever let a child in his care be hurt, even accidentally, because that meant his honour was apparently at stake. But he didn't care about cheating when someone was running the Labyrinth. He used to lead them up the garden path himself."

The laughter dried a little. "Garden path? I do not understand."

"Oh. It means to lead someone in the wrong direction. Jareth used to enjoy it. It was like a game to him, where he knew he could win but loved the challenge of doing something different every time. I never really got a chance to watch him, though. I only saw it happen once after we were bound."

She nodded understandingly, wondering if the mortal knew that he shone when he spoke about his bond mate, angry or not. She didn't think he did, or he would have realized that all his emotions stemmed from betrayal. Or what he saw as betrayal. From both their parts.

"My father was very happy to hear that the Goblin King was taking a consort at last. Jareth should have been married these hundreds of years past. Yet with his father..." she stopped when Toby stiffened and stared intently at her, "His father took a consort just as late. Indeed, he was six hundred when he married, and only saw two hundred years of his son's life."

"And that's not normal, I take it. So everyone usually marries early on and then lives for hundreds of years here? Wouldn't that get confusing? The King would probably live to see his great-grandchildren. How'd they decide who got the throne if there were all these heirs?"

"The eldest child," Gwenél answered, "The Castle was meant to house the royal family. In the old days it was filled with people. You see it as a shadow of its former self. The Wished-Aways too would live with there, under their protection and tutelage. My father mentioned that your bond mate was never fond of sharing, however; Jareth persuaded his father to build the Ivory Tower for the humans. It has been so ever since."

"Oh." There was really nothing much else to say. Yes, Jareth did hate sharing. He liked his space. Even as much as he'd loved Arradine, Jareth had hated her demands on his time, biting down on all too obvious frustration when forced to tend to her instead of keeping to his own rambling schedule. "Gwenél, he won't thank me for going to him now."

Her heart sank to see that sad look on Toby's face. The elf maid had come to care for the mortal and his child; she didn't like to think that Toby might perhaps be right. "You are welcome to remain with us," she offered, "If Brethiliaur and Maegorod agree and I would ask their permission first. Or you may return to the Aboveground, to your family. You are not married in the eyes of your laws; you may make a new life for yourself there."

Toby shook his head and sighed, lighting another candle as he shivered in the half-darkness. "I don't belong there. I never have. I'm almost sure that the bond actually made me grow more suited to the Underground than the Aboveground. Maybe if I had never lived here, or if I really believed that the Aboveground was the only place Arradine was safe, then I'd go. But right now I can't leave. Arradine is the Heir. If something happens I should be here to hear it."

The elf considered the question. "It has always been my opinion- if I may state it- that Arradine would be far safer in the Aboveground than in the Underground. You could take her to your family and return to find Jareth."

"That's a good plan, but everyone knows that I'm from the Aboveground. They're probably keeping a watch to make sure that I haven't taken Arra there yet. And anyway, my parents and sister can't fight this battle. I have to leave them out of it."

"So you will do this alone?"

"As far as Hoggle, Ludo and Didymus will let me. I want to know that Jareth's okay. I miss him."

She smiled at the half-shamed way that he said it, the words almost swallowed by a self-conscious cough and his eyes unable to meet hers. Yes, he missed him. He was more in love that he knew. "No wonder you never call my name," she teased, "Your head is filled with him."

But Toby shook his head and laughed at her, somewhat rueful and still sad. "I don't see Jareth when I'm having sex with you, Gwenél. I'm sorry to disappoint your theories, but I know exactly who I'm lying on top of. I never call your name because I figure you don't want to hear it."

"You what?" she paled and actually pulled back a little.

"Gwenél," he crawled across the bed to pull her out from under the sheets and into his lap, "I could never ever mistake you for Jareth. I don't want to! I'm not sleeping with you because I'm desperate; I genuinely like you. Didn't you know that?"

"N-no, I..."

"Never thought about it, I know. I'm not kidding when I say that I don't know how I feel for Jareth. I don't even know if I'll be able to sleep with him again if I see him. I've never been gay- that means attracted to males- and he was my first. With his experience and my lack of it, there was no way that I couldn't be aroused. And when you're seventeen and very aroused, you'll do anything to find relief."

"Is that not what this is?" Gwenel asked timidly, pointing between the two of them.

He shrugged and pulled her hair off her face, stroking her jaw as he did so. "What I do with you feels... natural. When I was with Jareth, I was going through some pretty mixed up times. I think I was secretly more in awe of him that anything else. He was this complex character who thought I was worth being concerned with. I was grateful for that. But I'm all grown-up now and I don't need to experiment or take my pleasure anywhere I can get it."

"Toby, I only sought to provide relief and comfort. I never offered love."

"I'm not asking for it," he soothed, "We're friends who have good sex. Jareth was not a friend, believe me. He was always King. I need different things, now, but I don't think he'll ever give me that."

"What if he can?"

"I don't know."

Gwenél was well aware that a hand was inching its way up her thigh. And there were two things she could do- stop it, or let it continue. She did nothing. But she did use the distraction to press her advantage on a point that had been bothering her- "It would be wiser to wait for spring, lirimaer. Traveling in winter is cold work."

Toby shrugged absently and trailed careful nails over the soft skin on her inner thigh. When he looked up, she was staring at him, an unreadable cold expression in her eyes. It seemed to be asking him a question or warning him of something. So he kissed her, recklessly, because there was nothing else that he could do.

His bond mate could wait through the winter in his enormous palace somewhere amongst the mountains. After all, he didn't look to be in much danger.

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_**He couldn't breathe. The pain in his chest was so bad that he couldn't breathe! He curled into the smallest ball he could make in the enormous bed and prayed fervently that that spot above his heart would stop aching. **_

_**A cool hand was on his brow, soft voice soothingly whispering in his ear. **_

_**But the pain was still excruciating and there was nothing that could stop it. He whimpered, wishing that the sickness would go away, worried that he was dying and that his son would be left alone in a world that was nothing if not harsh. **_

"**_Be still, dearest. It will ease."_**

_**And there was his Master, sliding into his mind like a blood-slicked skewer, twisting and maneuvering so that he couldn't feel the pain any more. He couldn't feel it! And somehow that hurt worse than the pain ever had. **_


	12. Wishes

Author's Note: Just as '_blah_' refers to thought processes, when Toby's a wolf, '_blah_' also implies wolf-speak. Basically, it means clear communication in whatever form the main character of the scene uses. It will be logical enough from the scene itself.

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Spring... the time of new life and new beginnings. Birds returned in spring and snow melted in spring. The trees and plants burst into life and the air spoke of new voyages.

Whatever it was- spring, the air or the new trees- Toby was determined on his new journey. In winter, on a day that he had calculated to be approximately the 25th of December (or Christmas day in his world), he had realized that his life had begun to slide down into a bog so murky that the original was all but unrecognizable. And so he was determined to make a change.

"Hoggle, I really think that I should do this alone," he urged, picking up the pack that had been ready since autumn, "I'll leave Arradine here with you guys and I'll come back just as soon as I know what's happening."

"No, and that's my final word," the dwarf snapped, stubby arms folded as he stubbornly glared up at the mortal, "I promised your sister to keeps an eye on you and that's what I'm a-going to do. So save your breath."

"Hoggle, it's dangerous."

"So's the Labyrinth. And I ran that, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but... do you really think that Jareth would have let you die?"

Hoggle batted the question away with his hand, clearly convinced of that answer- "I ain't none of his concern. Jareth wouldn't 'a cared."

Toby shrugged. It made no sense to him, but he did have one final warning- "If we're caught by the fairies, you know they're going to kill us all, right?"

Hoggle only looked up with a wide grin and tapped his head. "Think, Toby. I used to sprays their hybrids at the Labyrinth gates. They weren't never going to be merciful to me."

Nights were spent in the company of the elves, planning strategies and practicing with his powers. They were still limited and he had no illusions that he would ever have the ease with magic that his bond mate did, but he at least knew how to use it when he needed to. Other nights were spent roaming the forests in animus, spreading warnings to the other wolf packs that he and his kin were not to be touched on their journey.

Which was when the astonishing news had dropped- and all because the new leader of one of the packs had forgotten his place and challenged him.

Toby hadn't wanted to fight; he'd done that before and respect had come with a great many injuries and a lot of rage. But this wolf was a new-comer who did not see the need to respect him and so, when he had politely approached with a question, he found himself in the middle of a rather vicious argument.

They had fought.

The new-comer had lost badly.

Toby was aware that he had cheated. At the last minute he had used the little elfish magic he knew to bring a rock out to trip the other wolf and tear the soft pads on his right foreleg. The poor thing would probably have a limp for life.

'_I was told that one amongst you had word of a prisoner in the Faerie_ _Kingdom,_' he growled, '_Which is it?_'

The beaten wolf pressed himself flat to the ground in a show of obedience and yipped, '_I have brought that news. I roamed the mountains to the north of the lands for many turns of the moon. Strange reports were given of a prisoner in the Palace_ _of Mirrors._'

Toby drew in a sharp breath and stalked closer, teeth bared in a gentle warning. '_Tell me of this Palace. Where is it?_'

'_It lies ten weeks from the capital of the Fairy Queen. Through the forests where the wild geese fly and up into the mountains that ring the seas. Do you look for someone?_'

Toby considered that question. He did, but how much could one trust an animal? He'd always been very careful about telling his contacts only as much as they needed to know; the threat that the Fairy Queen might be just as able to mingle with the animals as the Goblin King ensured that nothing passed his lips without conscious thought. '_I look for the half-goblin who ruled the Goblin_ _Kingdom. Is he there?_'

The wolf seemed confused and whimpered slightly, obviously unable to answer that question from lack of the right understanding. Wolves never had any concept of kings and kingdom, though they understood leaders and territories. But the Goblin King would never have been a source of much interest to wolves unless he posed a threat or interacted with them in some way. Had Toby been able to speak with an owl or an eagle, he might have been able to speak of Jareth by name or title. With the wolves, very few knew of the former Goblin King, let alone cared where he was.

'_Did you see the prisoner?_' he demanded instead, clawing a patch of earth in front of his beaten opponent's quivery nose. The nose quivered again and snuffled slightly.

'_Never._ _But the nobleman I have seen- fair, as all the fairy are, and dark haired. His eyes are brown. He carries a sword and a whip. The weapons had a flower carved on them._'

A flower? The description was of Archer, surely, though there could be other noblemen who were dark-haired warriors with palaces. But why flower? Archer had never... the whip! Archer always carried that whip when traveling! He remembered the Fairy Lord holding it out during that conversation in the silent forests with the graves of goblin royalty, and the worn leather handle that still had its ceremonial carvings outlined with thin silver thread. The tulip!

'_This flower was a tulip?_ _With spiked petals._ _Shaped like an immortal's cup._'

'_This tulip was the flower. The immortals use it to brand what is theirs. The nobleman is cruel. The hunting dogs told us of his prisoner. Who are you? You smell different._'

Ah! Toby had been waiting for that question. No self-respecting wolf would ever have taken him to be what he appeared. The idea of the dogs in Archer's palace intrigued him just as much as the news confused him. To satisfy the curiosity of the wolf before him, he changed briefly to his human form before changing back.

'_Keep your pack. As you can see, I have no need for one. But I will claim freedom to roam this territory when I will. And none are to harm myself, my child or my friends. Your pack knows who they are; you would do well to follow their advice._'

The usual ceremony of leave-taking done, Toby had trotted off back to the elves' burrow with an empty stomach and a head whirling with thoughts. Of all the people he had not thought to contact, Archer was head of the list! The Fairy Lord was surely the person to go to; who else would know where Jareth was and why? Toby chided himself for thinking of Archer as a fairy first. Considering Archer's intense relationship with Jareth, it more than probably Archer had managed something.

And then thought had shifted: How had the Goblin King ended up with Archer? Why hadn't one or both of them tried to find him, at least to let him know that everything was alright? It was almost going on seven years and Jareth was still missing with no one who knew where. He couldn't help remembering that the scrying had showed his husband in a rather obvious state of undress. That robe hadn't seemed to be covering anything very much and Jareth hadn't seemed to be wearing much under it. And Archer was in love with Jareth, that much he guessed, whether Jareth knew it or not.

He had thought back to the many nights when his dreams had been troubled by the bond and he'd found himself in Escher Room, searching desperately for someone who wouldn't answer his call, and all those other nights when the binding had throbbed and ached as if about to choke him or give him a heart attack. There was only one conclusion to all of it and he had spent the next two days decimating an enormous chunk of wood as a target for his knives.

Gwenél had not taken him back to her bed after that night in the autumn. She had gravely told him once more that she didn't love him and that she hoped he would soon get the blinkers off his accursed eyes and see just how much Jareth did mean to him. He had laughed and agreed to give it a shot, until that night with the wolves.

So here he was, come spring, setting out on a journey with a dwarf, a rock-calling creature, a knightly little dog and his faithful steed, and a six year old part-mortal-fairy-goblin who couldn't stop hopping from one foot to the other and would soon grow tired and want to go back to the only home she had ever known.

Toby really hadn't wanted to take Arradine with him. What if he did find Jareth and Jareth rejected her for his new life? Toby could cope with rejection, but Arradine couldn't. She hadn't heard much about her father, but the little she had heard had been enough to make her want very much to meet him. Besides, no child liked to be told that one of its parents wished it gone. He was determined, along with everything else, to force Jareth to at least talk to her. After all, she was his daughter. And he'd give back that damned Medallion and tell Jareth that he and his incestuous cousin could both go to hell and he himself was going back Aboveground to start a new life for himself.

It was spring, and the journey called.

He only wished that he had never had to make it in the first place. And that he didn't remember the love and concern in a pair of mismatched eyes that haunted him on nights when the moon was full and he couldn't sleep. And he certainly wished that it didn't break something delicate inside him every time he thought of Archer's large, warrior's hands touching what was essentially his.

But at least it was spring and the snow had melted. Perhaps it would at least be a pleasant adventure!


	13. Archer

Author's Note: Is this getting confusing? Even worse, is it getting boring? I don't see many people interested at this point of time. I don't mean to plague people by asking for reviews and certainly I don't want anyone to feel they need to flatter my ego, but if something isn't working then do tell me. I can work on it if I know what it is.

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"Daddy, can we go home?"

"No, Arra, we can't."

"But I'm cold!"

He looked down in disbelief. It was certainly cold at nights in the forests since the sun didn't manage to break through the thick foliage as much as he would like, but his daughter was not the kind to feel the cold. She simply wasn't capable of it. And even if she did, it would probably just invigorate her.

He shrugged silently out of his cloak and offered it to her. Her eyes went wide and then she shook her head- "But what will you wear?"

"I'll be fine. Are you really cold?"

She bit her lip and looked down at her toes.

"Sweetheart, lying isn't going to make me take you back. I did warn you this would be a long trip."

"I want to see Ada."

Toby put the cloak back on. "We're looking for him. Just a little more and we should be able to ask someone if they've seen him." At knifepoint, he added silently to himself.

Arradine yawned and lay back down, snuggling into the blankets that Toby had brought for the nights. She looked like nothing so much than a kitten, curled into a little ball with her silver blond hair tufting up where the blanket wasn't quite pulled over her head. Unbidden, the mortal thought of taking a picture and then remembered that Underground didn't have cameras. And probably a good thing or people wouldn't rest until they'd wished themselves down here. Toby could just imagine what the average human holidaymaker could do to the place.

"Sleep well, Arra," he whispered, stroking her hair.

Sir Didymus came back with more wood, panting slightly as he put down the small branches that he had collected for the fire. In spite of his size and his tenacious chivalry, Sir Didymus was a good companion. No job was too small and he was loyal. Besides, he was very good with Arradine and told her all the fairy tales her little heart could desire.

Toby was glad that the other three had come with him. He would have gone mad or gotten lost very soon if they hadn't. The sketched map was proving itself to be more than incomplete.

"My Lord, I pray you good night," Sir Didymus interrupted, yawning as he settled down on the hard ground.

Toby blinked. Sleep? Oh. Night. Yes, one tended to sleep at night. Unless one didn't know quite where one was and didn't want to wake up with the enemy happily carting one's friends and daughter away. So no. He was 'keeping watch'. At least until he felt a little more confident of where he was.

He stayed up half the night until Hoggle grunted at him and sat up, rubbing his hip irritably and mumbling quietly about stones on the ground. "You get some sleep, Toby," he said, "I can't."

It was a good plan. Toby had initially been very happy for the chance to get some rest. His eyes were beginning to play tricks on him and any escape from his traitorous mind was pleasant. Unfortunately he found himself in a place he recognized from countless dreams before. He wasn't even aware of entering it but there it was, cracks and crevices in broken stone.

The Escher Room was a frustration and he knew he'd wake up more tired than when he went to sleep. But somehow the dream never let him out until he wandered for as long as he could stand it. He stood up with a groan as he tried to look through all the mists and fogs. The Escher Room was always in this state. Toby was tired of hitting his foot on a staircase or falling down one. He didn't see why he needed to keep visiting the same useless place.

"Jareth?" he called warily, hoping that somehow this time would be different. But it wasn't. It was the same tiring, dreary dream of searching for something that wasn't there. "This," he said aloud, "Is getting boring."

The "I agree" came from nowhere to stun him into immobility.

The creature that followed the words didn't encourage movement either. The over-large, pointed ears were pricked up, rising out of thick, dark, bronze-coloured curls. The creature was freakishly skeletal. However, everything paled in comparison to those eyes. They blazed with a kind of feverish desperation in their mismatched depths- the one blue, the other brown... Jareth's eyes.

"Who are you?" Toby demanded, taking a healthy step back and glaring suspiciously.

The creature shuffled forward and held out a hand. "You have no need to fear, mortal."

"Yeah, right! I'm supposed to believe you?"

"If you take one more step to the right, you will hit your head on a staircase," the Spirit reasoned, shrugging casually beneath its ragged clothes. "We search for the same goal. I suggest we combine our efforts."

"Forget it. I don't know you."

The Spirit sighed and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of its long, straight nose with long, slender fingers with ragged nails. The Spirit had spent a long time waiting for the return of its Steward and it was beginning to get antsy. This kind of thing was not usually done; the Spirit of the Labyrinth never voluntarily appeared to people other than its selected favourite. And mortals were not highly favoured. "Be calm. I do not intend to harm you. Your body is safe."

"Excuse me?"

"Your bond mate did tell me of your torment. I assume you have not forgotten it."

Toby stared. His torment? Was this being in front of him actually talking about his rapes? But no one knew about that except Archer, his family, Arienne and Jareth. Not even Kyfrem knew. How did this stranger know?

He summoned a crystal, steeling himself for an attack he was sure was coming. "Tell me who you are, and what you want. How'd you get into my dream anyway?"

The colourful scars and tattoos on the Spirit face swirled gently as it smiled and bowed. "I am the power in that crystal in your hand."

"The Labyrinth?" The crystal disappeared very fast.

"The Labyrinth."

"Shit, I'm sorry! I didn't know it was you. I've never seen you and Jareth never said... I'm sorry. I thought you were something to do with fairies."

"Understandable. Now, I require your help."

Toby nodded and came closer, not even registering when his foot caught briefly in the jagged edge of one of the flagstones.

The Spirit waved away a puff of mist and snorted. "My Lord cannot return here too soon. This place is terrible! Your bond mate is missed by his lands and I would have my favoured one returned to me. I will help you."

"But Jareth's..." Toby stopped. How was he supposed to tell the Spirit of the Labyrinth that its favoured one was currently relaxing in a faerie palace with no thought except to enjoy himself. "I don't know if he will return, Spirit."

The Spirit considered that question, head tilted as it surveyed this human being who crassly seemed to consider himself the only one suitable for this job. The Spirit would have been happy enough to send someone else, someone more suitable. The fragile soul he had once held in his hand did not seem the type of person that could stand the journey ahead. Not with what the Spirit knew of what lay ahead.

"What will you give for the truth, mortal?" it asked finally, a bony arm swaying limply through the fog.

The blond head shook, bright gold in the dull grey. "I'll break a crystal for the truth. But Jareth promised I would never have to."

"I see. Very well, I will give you the truth for the asking. But I will tell you that you will not enjoy it."

"I have a six year old daughter who has never met her father and never seen her people. I have no dreams and no hope. I still shiver when someone touches me without permission. And the one person I thought could keep me safe has run away. I think I can handle it, don't you?"

The Spirit could feel the honesty in that reply. In truth, it could feel those thoughts before the words had been spoken, and had known what the reply would be. It was prepared to give the answers readily. Within reason, of course. The Spirit couldn't reveal all because that would be involvement and it was not supposed to be involved with the living. "He has not run away. Your bond mate has forgotten." Perhaps honesty was for the best in this case, however.

Blue eyes blinked. Toby opened his mouth to say he didn't understand but nothing came out. So he shut it again, shook his head to clear it and looked pleadingly to the creature.

"He has forgotten. The Escher Room is a reflection of him, as it were. You see it now as it is without his touch- lost and grey. The thoughts and emotions that peopled it are gone, hidden by a force that is more potent even than my own power. This is why you return to this night after night, calling for him with no result. He cannot answer what he cannot hear. And he cannot hear what he does not think to hear. He has no knowledge of this. All that he is has been lost to the mists and the fog, leaving him to function without his sense of identity."

"But, how is that possible? No one just forgets. But then he didn't return, did he?" Toby sat down very suddenly, his knees giving out as the full force of the concept hit him somewhere in the stomach. The Spirit crumpled to his side, long fingers on his shoulder as he concentrated on breathing. "He hasn't come back because he can't remember what back is."

"Yes. If he knew who he was, or what he had been, this room would tell you. You would find him here. The bond would not let this happen willingly. You have both suffered for the separation, I think."

Golden hands clenched in his lap and Toby looked down to them, seeing the scratches and small scars from working hard with them every day for the past six years. It would be seven years in a month and he had betrayed his bond mate in the worst way possible, thinking that Jareth had betrayed him. He had believed Jareth capable of such cold selfishness, just like everyone else. And Jareth had only been unable to return.

"I cannot feel him because- unconsciously or consciously- he is cut from me, just as he is from you. Perhaps he seeks to protect himself? Perhaps he protects someone else? I cannot answer these questions."

"Please, you've got to tell me something more. Anything. Can you feel whether he's okay? Is he in pain? Is there a way I can see him or get him to open to me? Spirit, how did this happen?"

The creature stared at him with a peculiar expression in its mismatched eyes. Toby knew that expression- fear and concern mixed with apprehension. Jareth's eyes on the one night Toby had taken him. Without thinking, the mortal grabbed hold of a thin shoulder and shook, feeling the delicate bones creak ominously beneath his hand.

"Tell me," he ground out, "What else do you know?"

"The beginning," the Spirit of the Labyrinth wrenched its arm away, "I saw him lose."

Toby sat back, his blankest expression on his face.

"The goblins were dying of fear as a spell loosed itself within their ranks. Jareth worked to counteract it, but more died every day. His mind was strong, but the magic was black and he eventually succumbed to it. Someone knew of this, and someone took the advantage to raid the camp."

"Who?"

The Spirit seemingly ignored the question to continue its tale. "The Goblin King was captured; his troops taken prisoner. A few escaped and came to warn you. Your bond mate was taken with little ceremony and less care to his present dungeon. He fought well, but the black magic leeched his ability. His mind was taken. He was lost."

"Oh God! I- I don't..." Toby was trying to form a coherent sentence but nothing would leave his mouth. "Dungeon? He- he was not in a dungeon when... what did they... how..." There were too many questions. He remembered Jareth once telling him something about the danger of losing his mind.

"He was removed from the actual dungeons when he gave in. For reasons you will soon see, his captor could not leave him there. And his captor had no intention of ever doing so. His memory has been suppressed and he believes himself a different person to the one you knew. And though you saw him in seeming luxury, there are different dungeons than the cellars beneath the palace. I am sure you remember hell as a garden at midnight."

"No!" Toby didn't realize he was awake until Hoggle whacked him across the face and yelled in his ear. "No, God, please..." The guilt was unbearable.

Arradine was awake and whimpering, rocked soothingly in Ludo's arms as she watched Toby curl into a fetal position and cover his head with his arms, as though to hide from something. She had never seen her dad cry. He had always been so grown-up and so controlled. He had always been able to do anything. He wasn't supposed to behave like this. What had happened? Why was her dad saying her father's name over and over?

"D- did he have a b-bad dream?" she asked, whispering to Ludo.

The beast nodded mournfully and patted her head gently with his enormous paw. "Toby... bad dream..." It seemed to bring her some comfort so he kept patting her, saying everything would come right as best he could in his broken, childish way.

The morning was spent at camp. Toby wandered off eventually, returning hours later with a mask of a face and a brace of fresh game in his hands. He offered up the fruits of his hunt and took his exhausted daughter in his arms, holding her sleeping form as if it brought some measure of peace to him to look at her. And it did. Toby knew that it did. She made the world right for him.

Yes, hell had been a public park and pitiless moonlight. But the loss of his memory was possibly just a precaution; the Goblin King wouldn't try to escape if he didn't know he was the Goblin King. And Archer would never hurt him, surely? Jareth wouldn't necessarily have been harmed. Archer loved his cousin, and no matter how immoral that seemed, Toby hoped that that would be enough to keep Jareth safe. A few terrible experiences were bound to have wounded his pride but that could be tackled when Toby got him safely back to the elves.

The elves would know how to help... and that was always where the mental ruminating stopped. Because Toby knew in his heart that he could never take Jareth back to the Place of Time. The Goblin King was not meant for that world. No matter who he now was, Jareth never would survive without his Labyrinth and his Castle. And Toby meant to see that former glory restored. It was the least he could do.

Which was why he announced his presence in Archer's provinces by ripping the throat out of any fairy guard with his wolf-fangs, spreading the legend of a large brown wolf with blue eyes that hunted the fae in their own lands. And he drew attention away from the four others who followed silently on his trail.

Archer was stunned to enter his grounds one fine morning to find an unexpected visitor staring at an unexpected sight. One look at the back of that cropped short, fire-blond head and he had no illusions of just how delicate the situation was. So he did the only thing he could- he tapped the mortal on the shoulder and smiled down at his furious blue eyes.

"I believe you were looking for something, Master Elf?" he teased, glancing humorously behind Toby to the black-robed male sitting in the grass, completely unaware of his audience. "My pet is busy at this moment. Follow me and we can talk."

Toby stared searching at the Fairy Lord. His husband seemed unharmed, except for the collar. "He won't recognize me, will he?" he asked.

Archer shrugged airily and beckoned him in.

Toby followed.


	14. Lady Stardust

Author's Note: Thanks, guys! It's not that I require constant sustainance from reviewers, but I just wanted to know if this series was going okay. Since it seems to be doing all right, thanks to each and every one of you who reviewed and to anyone who reads but doesn't review as well; you're all equally wonderful.

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"_People stared at the make-up on his face..._"

Toby stared. Forget the make-up; there was no make-up: only soft dyed-black hair that swept long and silky down the slender neck. The black silk robe was too thin on those white shoulders, making them seem less masculine, less strong. Toby could imagine a young woman with those prettily displayed shoulders. If he blocked out the face and voice, if he didn't look too closely at what that black robe didn't even try to conceal.

He started as Archer silently joined him in the echoing hall.

"He sings," the Fairy Lord murmured, "A sign of content, yes?"

"_The boy in the bright blue jeans... jumped up on the stage... and Lady Stardust sang songs of darkness and disgrace..._"

"He cannot remember what jeans are, or what a stage is, but he still uses the words. Do you like the song? I believe it is a new one."

"..._the band was altogether... yes, it was all right... the song went on forever... he was awful nice... really quite out of sight... and he sang all night long..._"

A white finger dipped into the grass, completely unaware of the two pairs of eyes watching him magically through a mirror. A blade of grass was snatched lightly up and tossed away just as fast. For some reason Toby felt his heart constrict at the sight. Jareth had once picked him the perfect blade of grass and set it in a crystal. Even though the events surrounding that dream had been horrible, Toby still didn't want to think that Jareth never cared any more about that perfect blade of grass, about the kernel of truth in the crystal. He didn't want that!

"_Femme fatales emerged from shadows to watch this creature fair..._"

The robe was pulled up with an impatient hand, long hair pushed away from the red metal band around the delicate throat.

"_The boys stood up on their chairs to make their points of view..._"

Toby took a step back, trying to leave this scene behind- Archer with his hungry eyes and awful look of possessive love, Jareth so changed. How could he break this spell? If he did, how was he to deal with the repercussions? Jareth's pride was too great to accept that this had happened to him. And the pain! The unmitigated torment of betrayal and self-disgust- Toby feared it would only drive him to insanity.

"_I cried sadly... for a love I could not obey... and Lady Stardust sang songs of darkness and dismay..._"

Jareth seemed to still completely with those words, staring away into something else as the words began to swell with some kind of bewildered emotion. What he was thinking about Toby couldn't tell. He wondered if even Jareth himself knew.

"..._it was awful nice... really quite paradise... and he sang all night long..._"

A fist closed in the grass and yanked out an entire handful, and then Jareth was ripping it to shreds, gasping as he threw the bits as far from him as if they physically hurt him to be so near. The tears were streaming down his face.

Toby felt his heart break. It was terrifying to be so near and yet unable to go to him. What would he say to him? That the meek, unhappy little slave was really the Goblin King in disguise? That this Goblin King had a formally bound bond mate who was not his Master, and a child? He couldn't do it.

"Have you tasted his tears?" Archer taunted, "No, he never did cry before you. He put away that side of himself for you. He could never be soft or delicate with a mortal; you simply would not understand it. How could you? You know nothing of his life."

"I knew what he told me," Toby snapped, turning away with a glare of disgust, "And you! You think you have the right just because he lets himself be weak in front of you?"

"He gives me the right," Archer said, "Every right, in fact, and more than you ever received."

"I'm not having a pissing contest with you about Jareth!"

"Strangely enough, I am. I feel quite a lot of pride in my cousin's transformation." Archer placed a hand on the mirror, the other meditatively pushing his dark hair behind his ear, "I enjoy it."

"You like seeing him like that?"

"I like seeing him," Archer corrected, indicating the person in the mirror, "On my initiative. Not when our worlds allow us the chance, but at once. Whenever I call."

"He was crying. How often does he cry?"

"Quite often. But he laughs as well, and every person must cry at times." Archer genuinely regretted it. "It is the price we must pay, alas, to get free. But yes, I enjoy his company very much now. This was better than I had planned."

"You couldn't have planned him losing his memory," Toby declared.

"But what good fortune for me, Master Elf. My cousin would never have consented before this and now look at him. He can't listen to a conscience that can't remember its conditioning. And if I am to be that conscience, guiding him in all matters- well, then, who am I to refuse the former Goblin King?"

"That's sick."

The Fairy Lord didn't seem very perturbed by the verbal attack. He waved his hands and the mirrors went dark. The candles once more cast a soft light through the high-ceilinged room, playing bronze and gold shadows over the gilt frames and sparse furniture. The chair at the head of the hall appeared inordinately stark and hard, the frosty sheen of light gleaming over the worn material.

"Why is that, Toby?"

Toby spun, a look of incredulous loathing on his face. "He's your cousin," he ground out, "Your mothers were sisters! He treated you like the family he didn't have. You're supposed to take care of him, not make him a slave. Does it get you off, doing this to him?"

"The love I hold for my cousin is pure beyond anything you can know," Archer said quietly, a gleam in his eyes warning the mortal not to go too far, "We are everything to the other. I am his family and I am his lover. He is mine. I am his Master and he obeys me willingly."

Toby wasn't in the mood to pay attention to warning hints. "But you aren't his mate; I am. He chose me. He is the father of my child. And you know what? You had to rip his memories from him to get him; he came willingly to me. Did he even know that you wanted him like this? No. You knew he'd never say yes. He's sobbing his eyes out because you've made him something he hates, and he senses it! He would never take what you've done to him."

Archer moved suddenly, but stopped when he saw the crystal balanced on the golden fingers. Then he smirked, a slow cruel smirk, just before turning to the mirrors and calling on them once more.

"A picture of just how willing he was."

Jareth... lying in a bed with no shackles, no ties. He was writhing on the sheets, hands reached out to someone. Eyes closed, the Goblin King was calling for someone or something, sweat-slicked and desperate.

Toby watched as that beloved voice called out for the fairy. He watched, sickened, as Jareth welcomed Archer by name and pleaded softly to be taken out his misery. The fairy was gentle where Jareth was forcefully demanding more and ever more.

Jareth had asked. And the image faded.

"He never went willingly," Toby repeated slowly, "You must have done something to him, made him think a certain way or something."

"His memories were clear," Archer pointed out, jerking his head to indicate the silent mirrors, "You see he called my name. He asked clearly and distinctly for what he needed. He threw his Kingdom away just for my touch. Jareth is not the innocent you think he is."

"Then why take his mind? Why put him through torture?"

"Safety. For him and for myself. And privacy. My servants and guards alone know who he truly is. They are discreet. Amarild has no real wish to kill him and the capture of the Goblin King gives her victory. She will not jeopardize it by taking him from me. Without his memories, he is protected from himself and the life that gave him so much pain and worry. You didn't help, need I add."

"I never did anything..." the mortal stopped. No, he couldn't, in all honesty, say Jareth and he had been particularly happy together. Tempestuous and passionate, perhaps, but not altogether happy. "He chose me, not you."

"And came to me when he faced the problems you brought. My child, I told you once that he would never give me up. Jareth always knew I would be the constant. Can you honestly say he never hinted that to you?"

"You were a dirty secret. Jareth was eccentric but he wasn't a pervert. This would have been shameful to him."

Archer only laughed and folded his arms. "Well, now he is not himself and so there is no shame to it."

Toby longed to smash the mirrors, but he sensed the magic around them and knew that to do so would only spark an unnecessary amount of chaos and disorder. He could live without that. Not yet, he knew, now was not the time to announce his presence. Or give Archer a reason to get angry with him. More than ever he wished he had never let Arradine come with him.

"I'll say this once- I'm not leaving Jareth here," he said abruptly, "The next time I come, I'll take him with me. So say your goodbyes if you have to. If you've got any kind of heart, you'll stay away from him and give him a few less nightmares."

With that, the mortal disappeared, leaving the Fairy Lord alone in the room. Sighing to himself, Archer took the seat at the head of the hall, his body moulding to the worn wood. He tapped a finger impatiently on the tulip carved into the armrest and sighed again.

Toby would do as he said; the fairy never doubted that.

But would that be for the best?

Archer had always marked Jareth for himself. He wasn't about to give him up without a fight. And a fight wouldn't help because the boy was magically stronger and much more controlled from those seven years on the run. Archer felt his lips curl: no, not so controlled. He could still smell the youth of that ripe body. He had never loved him but Toby was his by proxy, belonging as he did to Jareth. Archer had the faerie sensibility of ownership and he didn't see why he should give up so easily what was his to have.

There was something else that belonged to him by that very same rule, the something else that served as a bond stronger even that the magical collar that shackled the half-goblin.

Archer rang the bell by his side.

A tall woman entered and curtsied respectfully before him, her eyes on the floor as he instructed. No one in his palace looked at him except for a chosen few and those who were ordered to do so.

"Bring me my pet," Archer commanded, "And the child."

The woman left the room, shivering a little in apprehension of that command. The famed Goblin King who had been the guest of honour for so many hundreds of years, who had followed his reputation of being powerful and arrogant and selfish. That Goblin King was reduced to pet! She would not dare to speak out, but it seemed so wrong to trap something so wild in a gilded cage.

"My Lord loves him too much," she assured herself, "It is just his way."

His way?

The child looked up when she called him from his room, carefully putting down his pencil and papers to trot sweetly at her side. And when she arrived in the garden, the pet was on his way in, pale and trembling as if sensing that something potentially wrong was afoot. His mismatched eyes were too vulnerable by half and the helplessness only eased somewhat when he saw the child.

"Aidan! Are you taking a walk now?" he asked, stopping to brush the bright gold hair away from the child's face.

Aidan shook his head. "Leela brought me," he said, "We were finding you."

"You were searching for me?" Mismatched eyes rose to the woman's slightly sympathetic face. "Miss, what is it? Does my Master call for me?"

Leela winced at being so addressed. Whatever else, it was certainly wrong for the Goblin King to call a servant 'Miss' or 'Sir' but he did. Not on Archer's command- for Archer had given none- but on his own initiative, as if he were less than the peasants who worked for a hard living.

"My Lord does summon you." There was no way to address him. So no one did. "And the child," she added, hoping to prepare him a little. There could be no harm in telling him because Archer had given no instruction to the contrary.

The right hand faltered somewhat as it stroked once more over the golden head. "Please; why is Aidan needed?"

"My Lord did not tell me," she said coolly, "But you know it is never wise to keep him waiting."

Jareth nodded slowly and scooped the child up in his arms, pushing aside his fears and apprehensions to murmur pleasant nonsense to him as they walked. Outside the door to the Hall of Mirrors, he put him down. "Stay quiet," he warned, "Don't talk or move unless my Master allows it. All right?"

"Yes, father."

The answer was meek and it tore at some core part of the former Goblin King to see his child so contained. Something in him rebelled at that, made him want to scream at someone for forcing a child to go through this horror. The anger drained away to pure fear when he opened the door and saw the soldiers.

Leela tightened her own lips as she showed the slave and his son into the hall. The soldiers were the only ones who dared to show an open interest in the slave, and only because they retained a cruel interest in seeing the one who had caused the deaths of so many of their friends in the war now forced to bend to the pleasures of others. But there was nothing she could say.

Jareth had quite a few things he could say but he knew better than to say them. His Master would not listen. He knew that from sickening experience. He walked to his Master's feet, dropping instantly to his knees before him with his head bowed. He ignored the smirks and hot gazes burning into the back of his neck. None of the guards had any weaponry or armour, but that gave no clue as to why they were there.

"I had a visitor today, dearest," Archer sighed, holding out a hand and drawing his pet closer, "A young friend. A young mortal man, in fact."

Jareth looked surprised. "You have a mortal friend?" he ventured to ask.

"I? No, he is not my friend particularly. I know him, but I don't take pleasure in it. No, this one is your bond mate."

The entire hall stiffened. The former Goblin King frowned slightly, sifting hopelessly through his mind for any memory of who this might be. He felt his Master presence inside, felt the twist on his thoughts. But he couldn't remember. He should remember! A bond mate was not easily forgotten!

"You do not know what I mean, do you?" Archer laughed, a finger tilting his face up, "So easily forgotten? Poor Toby! He will not be best pleased."

"Master, I thought you were..."

"Your bond mate? No. But that is not why I called you here. Ah! I see Aidan is with us."

Aidan took a step back. He didn't like Archer. A vague memory of his father hurt by this fairy's hand made him fear and hate the male whom his father professed to love.

"Come here, Aidan," Jareth called quietly, holding out his hand.

The five-year-old came up and pushed against his father's side.

Archer smiled, noting how the golden hair gleamed in the candlelight. So like Toby's, he crowed. And yet those eyes... he knew those eyes from almost five hundred years ago. Jareth's eyes- knowing, watchful, calculating, and capable of such blindness. Those eyes would come in useful when the child was grown. Oh, Archer didn't mean to take his innocence; Jareth was all he had ever wanted. But there were alliances to be forged and political contracts to be, ahem, agreed on. Aidan would do nicely as an incentive.

"Your son is truly lovely. It would be horrible if something were to occur that destroyed that loveliness, would it not?"

Jareth clutched tighter at his child and nodded, not quite sure where the conversation was going.

"Your bond mate threatens to kill everyone in the Castle if I do not let you go to him."

"Let me go? But- but you... I cannot... how..." he stared helplessly to his Master, feeling the sharp sting in his head as Archer twisted inside his mind, sorting through the emotions present with a pleased grin. "Master, you told me you would keep me."

"I want to," his Master agreed, "I do not want to let you go. But you see my predicament. If I keep you, your child will be in danger."

"What am I to do, Master?" The world spun under his feet, the barely contained confusion surging to an overwhelming flood around him.

"Do you want to stay, pet?"

Jareth had often thought about escaping. There had been times when the pain of staying had been too much to bear. Something inside him told him that this was not the life he was meant to lead. Shadows inside him would hiss at him to run, to take Aidan and run. But with the collar... and Archer would find him; he had full confidence in that. And Archer provided stability in a world that had so much pain. Archer loved him.

"Yes," he whispered.

"I see. Well, there might be a way to save your child," Archer smiled. It was really too easy to manipulate this mind now. "Your bond mate will return and I will send for you. You will tell him that you wish to stay with me. He will see the errors of his ways and he will depart."

Jareth nodded automatically, knowing it would be required of him. And it sounded like a reasonable plan. Surely no one would go to so much trouble for him? Well, except his Master. And Jareth thanked the Gods every day for the miracle of being loved.

"We are agreed then. Now, pet; just to ensure that you truly are as willing to stay with me as you say, I have a task for you."

Jareth stiffened. His mind was confused but his intelligence wasn't compromised; he guessed what the task was. He slipped his arm off his son and pushed him gently to the side. Aidan would be sent away in a minute and then the tormenting would start. The thoughts made him shiver with nervousness and desire. It was abusive and it would hurt, but he would please his Master. He would prove himself. And his Master professed to like watching this, said he looked beautiful when he was so overwhelmed.

"... the soldiers deserve a little treat, do you not think?"

The assembled men and women leered just a little as the pet bowed and rose gracefully to his feet, turning to stand respectfully before them. At Archer's answering nod, one woman came forward. Dropping a calloused hand on his shoulder, she used the other to grab a fistful of the dark hair and tug his head down, kissing him savagely as if to mark him permanently as her own.

The pet had one moment to fear for his safety when there were hands, stripping him, stripping each other... and so many hands and mouths on his flesh. He threw back his head and moaned as a soldier bit at his neck.

Archer turned to see Aidan watching the scene with a confused frown on his face. By rights, he should send the child away. This was no place for a five-year-old boy. But Aidan was the shackle that would bind the Goblin King to his will, for Archer was about to do something that was a risk and quite possibly the only way left open to him.

He heard a yelp of shock and smirked. He loved watching this. No matter how it exhausted his pet, Jareth never looked more desirable than in the throes of helpless passion. He loved to see that look, to see those eyes shut with a hoarse cry of desire as sexual frenzy took over all logic and reason.

It would be only a while more.

"Aidan, come to me," he demanded quietly.

Aidan sidled closer until he was standing at Archer's right hand. The Fairy Lord placed a hand on his shoulder and continued to watch the scene, eyes intent as he felt an answering desire stir in his own veins.

The right moment was almost there... Soon. His pet would know better than to re-think his decision.

The hand on the child's shoulder tightened and then Archer grimaced just a little.

Jareth suddenly went limp on his knees, faint and in pain, moaning quietly as agony hammered in his temples. He opened his eyes and looked up to see the soldiers were not about to let him go just yet.

Memories came rushing back.

He almost threw up even as his mouth was forcibly filled. Archer! How could he? How had he? Frantic now, he began to struggle, striking out against the bonds. Momentarily confused, the soldiers let him go. Jareth gasped in a lungful of air as he was released. The collar seared over his skin as he unthinkingly called on his magic. He groaned and felt the sound stick in his throat.

"Archer," he called, bewildered and panicked, "What is this?"

The fairy smiled a bittersweet smile and shrugged. "You belong to me, my dear," he replied, "I do not intend to let you go."

Rough fingers plundered into him. Rape- that was all this would be- rape. He shut his eyes and let his body go as limp as it would. Fighting would only hurt more. He could survive this.

'_Your bond mate..._' Toby was here. It was only a matter of time. Oh Gods, Toby knew! Jareth felt his stomach twist and then cried out. It hurt! Worse than he remembered.

'_Your son is truly lovely..._' Aidan!

"Aidan, cover your eyes," he called out throatily, "Archer, please! Let him go. Send him away."

"He is your reminder, Jareth. I will keep you; I promised you that. And that is with or without your permission."

"Archer, please!"

"You will remember what I trained you for, my dear, and you will do that for the safety of your son," the fairy called.

Jareth couldn't even feel his fingers anymore; they were numbed from the tight grip on his wrists. No magic, no strength, no will to fight while his body agonizingly drew pleasure from this pain as it had been taught.

"Aidan, close your eyes," Jareth called again, desperately. He shut his own eyes, unable to contend with anything now.

The child whimpered and shut his eyes, covering his face so that he couldn't even peek out. The hand remained on his shoulder and burned through his thin tunic with its fevered touch. The next scream sounded louder than ever.


	15. Revelations

Author's Note: No one has failed as a reviewer and it's my own silly fault for being so damned indecisive. Anyway, enjoy. And yes, Archer deserves to die.

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"Jareth?"

The dyed black head remained bowed; the slender white figure remained kneeling on the cushion on the floor. No more thin black silks and chiffons. Jareth was dressed like a nobleman in borrowed finery. His collar was passive for the moment, fit close around his bare neck.

Archer smiled at the mortal and reached a hand to rest in the dyed hair. Stroking at first as Toby called his husband's name once more, the Fairy Lord suddenly yanked the head back, forcing Jareth to look up. "Up, my pet," he chuckled, "We have a guest."

Toby stared even harder, taking a step back as the mismatched eyes looked at him with blank anger. God, no! He had never, ever thought to see that look in Jareth's eyes. What was going on? It couldn't be true. That was not Jareth kneeling on the floor in that get-up; the former Goblin King simply wouldn't do something like that.

"I believe you're frightening my pet, Master Elf."

The 'pet' was looking not in the least frightened. Resigned, yes; tired, certainly. Humiliated.

"Get that disgusting collar off my husband." Toby startled even himself with that snarl.

Jareth's eyes flickered.

Recognition? Toby felt his blood surge through his body as his pulse leapt. "Now," the mortal warned calmly, a crystal gathered on his fingertips and ready to throw. It wouldn't matter any more about using magic here.

The hand tangled in the long dark strands tightened its hold. "Pet," Archer urged, clearly waiting for something.

"Just go, Toby."

The crystal hovered indecisively. "What?"

"Leave," Jareth murmured hoarsely, "There is nothing for you here. My Master will not kill you if you leave now."

The walls of the enormous hall seemed to be collapsing into the room. Either that, or the pressure was too big for such a small space. Toby suddenly grit his teeth and sent a swathe of red velvet crashing to the floor. "What's he threatening you with, Jareth? He'll kill you anyway, you know that."

"He has not threatened me."

The words were soft, filled with pain and tiredness beyond anything Toby had ever heard before. It seemed inconceivable that Jareth would ever sound like that. Why would the Goblin King give up if he had a chance at escape? The split lip did not speak of happiness.

Toby softened his voice and flicked the crystal away. "I won't leave without you," he whispered, "Never again. I'm not doing that."

Archer smirked and let go with enough force to send his captive to the ground. Jareth rested a minute and then pulled himself back up, eyes turned away as he resumed his position. This time, however, he kept his head up. He was forbidden to say anything or move from where his 'Master' had placed him, but Archer himself had pulled his head up, therefore he could look all he wanted and say with his eyes what he couldn't speak. And he had never wished so badly to apologize before.

"Jareth, please?"

"Such romance, such tragedy." Archer was amused, a strong leg crossed over the other as he relaxed back into his seat. And really, who could blame him? Jareth had sworn to stay and even were he to break his promise now there were plenty of guards at his command. The collar would bind the former Goblin King's power for long enough and the child naturally had no real magical skill.

"Shut up, Archer, for fuck's sake!" Toby was so incredibly tired of all this. "Why? What possessed you to turn him into this! I thought you loved him."

Jareth flinched.

"I do," Archer purred, "And is he not beautiful like this? Look at him; my pet- so submissive, so perfectly cold... but I think we both know how bright he burns, do we not? Like the collar he wears at my command. Do you like it?"

"Just get it off him."

Jareth looked panicked and then Toby understood why. The collar seemed to be a form of metal, and with a subtle touch from Archer's fingers the metal began to heat. Like a vice it clasped his throat and like a hot iron it burned the fragile skin. As with most fairies, the marks would fade unless the skin and flesh was melted right off, but the pain would linger. The half-goblin choked as he fell forward to lean on his hands, unable even to touch it because it would only burn his fingers.

Toby threw a crystal without thought and icy water drenched itself over the collar, not stopping until the metal was once more cool to the touch, easing the pain away as much it could.

Archer clapped, the sound echoing around the emptiness. "Very good," he complimented, dark hair staining his silver tunic with a silky touch.

Jareth looked up and to Toby, eyes pleading with the mortal. For what, even the half-goblin could not have said. To go, to do something... anything was better than this helplessness he felt. He couldn't leave on his own; he couldn't. Archer would hurt Aidan without thought if he did. Worse! If there were worse things that could be done to a five-year-old.

"I think your mortal needs to be told the whole story, pet." Broad, well-shaped fingers rang a bell on a table beside the chair the Fairy Lord was perched in. Jareth straightened and stared anxiously past his bond mate to the carved door. The carved door that opened and the tiny figure that was pushed into the room made straight for him.

Toby watched in shock as Jareth held out his arms, the little child jumping into them with a tiny sob. He watched as the slender arms held tight, a white hand stroking the bright blond hair that slipped from the black ribbon confining it and flowed in a longish, slightly curly wave over the thin shoulders.

"Well, Master Elf? A pretty child, is he not?"

Jareth actually held tighter, moving unexpectedly to put himself between Archer and Aidan. He bit his lip in fear he would say the wrong thing. With his memories back it was a battle to control his tongue. The child himself didn't look too happy, but unlike his father he stared unflinchingly back, the dislike in his eyes overriding the fear. The former Goblin King placed a hand on his son's back, silently preparing himself to do whatever it took to keep the boy safe.

Toby opened his mouth but found that nothing would come out. He tried again, with the same result. Finally he contented himself with looking dazed and staring. The child turned to look at him, large blue eyes levelling a distrustful stare back at him. Those eyes! God, he could never mistake those eyes!

"Toby, please, leave. You must leave now." Jareth was pleading, willing to break on this point. "You've wasted your time here."

"No."

"Go away," the child piped up, waving a small hand. Toby knew where those long, slender fingers had come from, just as he knew those distinctive brows that arched over the blue eyes.

He tried to say 'no', to say that he wasn't going anywhere without at least some answers if not his husband. And that he didn't plan to leave Jareth to this hell, or the child even if its father was not who he suspected. "What's your name," he said instead.

The child reached a hand to touch his father's face, running it over a bruised cheekbone before looking back to Toby. "Aidan," he answered watchfully, only responding because this man looked at his father as if he was sad about something. That, and his father was giving the man the same look.

"A pretty child," Archer mused again, carding his dark hair with his fingers, "And so like his fathers. Know you who that is, Aidan?" He pointed the child's gaze to Toby. "Your other father."

Jareth made some mute sound of warning and shifted his head as if to deny the information. A moment later he straightened and came to a decision. He whispered something to the boy and the child shook his head vigorously. Jareth seemed not to notice because he looked at Toby with a semblance of determination.

"I'm staying," Jareth said clearly, "My child can go. He doesn't belong here."

Archer snorted. "I decide what belongs here, my pet. I should think you would remember that. You belong to me, and everything you have belongs to me as well."

"He belongs to no one. Jareth, you have the kid with you so come with me now."

Archer laughed then, a low rich strain of laughter that made Toby's nerves screech at something so fundamentally familiar about that dark sound. It stirred a sickness in his blood, turning him first hot and then cold. The look on Jareth's face was enough to tell him that something momentous was about to be said.

"No," the half-goblin warned again. It seemed as if he was trying to spread himself all over the room, protecting everything by drawing the attention back to his disobedience. "Archer, leave him be."

"Why?" Toby felt his spine contract with that one word. He started to shiver, seeing a vision of dark eyes and dark evil coating him until he couldn't remember that he was no longer sixteen and no longer a victim. "Dear heart, do you really believe it is so easy to escape me?"

That endearment!

"Think, my dear- will your bond mate thank you for what you will do? The child will be killed if he leaves this Castle. By even asking him to go, you place Aidan's neck in a noose. You know some magic but how much? Enough to protect him against every soldier? The King of the Goblins won't thank you for that."

Toby didn't even realize he had backed away until he saw Jareth make as if to get up, to come to him. He stilled his feet and lifted his chin. So his rapist was Archer. The demon had a face; that was all. A dark shadow was supernatural and terrifying. Archer frightened but he was solid, built of flesh and blood. Toby wasn't about to give in to a demon he could see. "The Goblin King has nothing to do with this," he snapped back, "And to kill his son, you will have to kill me."

"That," Archer smirked, "Will not be a problem."

With the most graceful movements Toby had ever seen, the warrior was out of his seat and striding towards him, dark eyes burning with delight at the challenge.

"And I was wondering what to do with you," the Fairy Lord taunted, "Killing you will solve all my problems. Am I not right, my pet?"

"Jareth's not a pet."

"He is mine!" They circled each other. "Think you he cares for the insipid romance that you offer? You were a diversion, a pretty trinket to play with while he waited."

Toby scoffed. "I suppose he was waiting for you?" he said instead, "To what- to claim him? Then tell me, my Lord, is that my son he's got? Or one of yours?"

Archer snarled and made for him, only to have the mortal escape.

Jareth swore under his breath and rose, bidding his son stay where he was and out of Archer's reach. "Archer," he demanded, the force of the Goblin King cracking through the last seven years of slavery to lend him a dark forbidding to his voice. The collar glowed as the power inside him struggled to break free.

It was the Goblin King that walked to Toby's side, put the mortal behind him and turned disturbingly cold eyes to his cousin's face. "Touch one hair on his head," he whispered, "And I will kill you."

"You forget your place..."

"Actually, I remember it all too vividly," Jareth snapped, "I will stay now if I must but I will have my revenge. And you would be advised not to give me greater reason to hate you."

"Really?" The voice had changed again, to that tender amusement that Jareth had grown up with. It sounded of reading and talking and analysing everything from life to wine in companionable love. It shimmered with soft desire and wanton need. It spoke of hundreds of years spent bestowing warm caresses and soothing touches. "Do you hate me, Jareth?" The words had bite. "Cousin?"

Toby groaned quietly as he heard Archer unknowingly sign his own death warrant. If there was one thing Jareth was likely to go insane over, it was that his own cousin- the one being he had loved and trusted- had been the devil.

The collar was so pressurized that it burned on Jareth's neck. The half-goblin was pale and breathing a little heavily, but the look in his eyes said he would die rather than back down now. The stony silence he kept said more than words.

Archer growled low in a throat and reached out his hand. "You belong to me, Jareth. You know that. I was there when your life was a misery; I was the first to congratulate you when you took the Kingship. I was there for everything that you needed. But you gave me up for a mortal?"

"The mortal has not made me a slave!"

"He has not?" the smile that tugged at Archer's lips was cruel in the extreme, "He has domesticated you, my dear. A wild animal like you, playing house with babies? Give in to me and I would set you free- to love, to hate, to be so the world may see you as I do. And you love it. Tell me that you have not loved it."

The mirrors in the room suddenly flashed into life, a different image in each one. Some soothing, some tortuous. Jareth's eyes naturally slid to the floor as he watched himself pushed further and further into degradation, and yes, taking enormous gratification from it. "That is not who I am."

Archer whirled away and pointed to a mirrored panel to his right. "Do you remember this night?" He pointed to the scene he had shown Toby not two days ago.

Toby reached out to offer comfort but Jareth ripped his arm away, wild-eyed and panicked. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"There would be a place for Toby as well, if he would take it. He tasted power only once and to be fair, I was rather harsh. But he seemed to like it well enough," Archer pointed out, smugly tapping another panel.

Toby saw himself, that night in the Aboveground when his life had almost ended. He watched as Archer made him touch himself, he watched his body writhed under his hand's ministrations; eyes closed to better experience it. He saw himself lost to the desire, lost to everything and forgetful of the blood and the bruises and the knife.

"You need this, Toby. Jareth needs you. You are pretty enough and if you make my pet happy, then I am willing to take you as well. Your children will be mine and I will show you pleasure such as you have never experienced."

Toby's breath was coming short. The pain and agony of Archer's proposed 'pleasures' was burning his throat. "Ariadne," he croaked, looking to Jareth, "What of Ariadne?"

Jareth would not look up. "This was her life too," he answered softly, "When I refused to obey Archer two nights ago, he killed her to spite me. I gave her away to this."

"I think we both know how you could," Archer sighed, "You have never cared much for anyone else. You never found anyone else worthy of your notice. Except for one person. From your first consort alone you craved constant contact and approval."

First consort? What other consort? Toby stared at his husband, uncertain.Was that what Jareth was hiding from him?

Jareth flinched and took a step back, confidence falling away like a cloak.

Archer smirked calmly, eyes warm and soft as his voice continued, caressing the both of them like a razor-blade. "I won't name names, my dear, but I haven't forgotten. I spent years longing to see the same look on your face for me. Do you remember the nights when you held out your arms to him and begged him to love you? You're rotten to the core, my dearest."

"I am not a piece of fruit!"

"Then, twisted, certainly."

"No…"

"You are. Why else would you desire someone like that? Two hundred years as His lover. For two hundred years the entire Underground turned away from you in disgust. Your own mother disowned you."

"I had no mother."

"That is right. Jra- Gurgh!" Jareth jumped as Archer spat at his feet, angered and derisive in one swift move. "Disgusting!"

Toby made to move forward but Archer's hand was already on Jareth's cheek, smoothing and stroking so tenderly that the half-goblin leaned unconsciously into the touch.

"To everyone except me. I watched you in my mirrors. I sat in this hall as my mirrors showed you to me. Every night did I observe; every whisper did I hear. You gave yourself so willingly, craving more of Him. Obsessed and wild in your urges."

"Jareth, don't listen..."

"Like you were when I took your mind. Like you can still be."

But the spell was broken. Jareth stepped away. His eyes slid from Archer's to the tiny child standing wild-eyed beside the seat. "Aidan," he called. Aidan came to him and allowed himself to be handed over to Toby. "Take him to safety, my elf. I can't."

"Jareth, I'm not..."

"Do as you are told, for once. He is your son. I can't protect him any longer."

"But, I..."

"Now, Toby."

Toby knew better than to argue when Jareth used that tone of voice. But he also had no intention of leaving Jareth to fight this alone. He had waited seven years and bled for eight because of Archer. He was too strong to leave because Jareth told him to. "Aidan," he instructed, "I'm sending you to some friends of mine, all right? Stay with them. Tell them your name and your father's name. Can you do that?"

The small head nodded.

"Good boy." Toby smoothed a hand over the slightly coarse gold head and smiled. But there was no time for sentiments now. "Go." He pressed a crystal into the child's hand and shut his eyes, guiding him through space to land in the cave. When he opened his eyes again, Jareth was staring at him with disapproval.

He stood up and shook his head. "Jareth, what's the plan?" he asked pointedly, jerking his head to Archer.

"I have none," the former Goblin King admitted tensely, "Gods above, I cannot even do magic."

And since when had Archer had a sword?

"Well, lucky for us, I can," Toby sighed, "Um, I suppose you can't just stand on the sidelines and out of danger, can you?"

Archer and Jareth both looked to him with expressive frustration. Well, no, he hadn't really thought it was possible, but asking never hurt. Or did it:

'_You asked for it, dear heart... I can feel you. Your mind tells you that this is wrong, but your body thirsts for this... It's all your fault...' _Soft, dark words that still lived in the back of his mind.

"Toby, concentrate. Now is not the time to fall apart."

Jareth was making a very good point. The mortal took a deep breath and stared once more at the pointed sword. He wasn't entirely sure how to fight with magic. He wasn't inventive like that nor was he powerful. He couldn't sustain it. And he couldn't concentrate. That sword looked miserably sharp. Toby smiled. His fighting knives could handle this. They were elfish made, with harder steel than anything made by a goblin or a fairy. And he had a fairly good grasp of how to use them.

Archer's brows rose when he saw the knives. "You mean to fight me hand-to-hand?" he asked, incredulous and amused, "I had thought to give you a chance to win but you have just chosen suicide."

The swipe with the knives was easily deflected by the sword, but not before the Fairy Lord felt the blatant warning of skill in the long, fluid movement. Jareth just watched, fidgeting and frustrated. There was nothing he could do. He was no warrior, and Archer knew his magic could not be accessed.

Jareth, had this been said out loud, had a very different opinion on that matter. His magic could very well be accessed. He just had to fight the collar to find it. He caught his breath as Toby danced dangerously close to striking range and almost effortlessly drew a thin red line on Archer's cheek before jumping away again.

"Spirit, where are you when I need you," he groaned, lifting his hand to tug at the metal band. The clasp would not respond to his touch. Toby was good, but Archer had the advantage of weight and height and experience. He needed to hurry. The collar began to glow again as he struggled. Picture it, his mind instructed, focus on that feeling of magic. But with seven lost years between him and his memories, did he even know what that feeling was any more?

Soap bubbles made tangible... the slick feeling of the crystal... the energy... the deft control... small amounts to light a candle... bigger amounts to light a fire…

Archer saw the collar burn. He saw Jareth bite at his lower lip, hands at the collar, trying to fight it. He watched the dark brows pull together in intent concentration. And should Jareth reach that perfect concentration the collar would snap.

The flat of the sword wrenched close to the former Goblin King's face, throwing him off balance and pulling him back to the physical reality. Concentration broken- Jareth blinked, disoriented, and shook his dark head. The brown in his mismatched eye was slightly darker. The Labyrinth had felt that.

Archer had to win this- now. "Stop. Think of what I offer you," he whispered, "Everything you've ever wanted is here. Peace, security, love- I offer them all."

"Peace? Love?" Jareth was clearly stunned. He was also, to put it nicely, hysterically angry. "What kind of love are you offering? Archer, you betrayed me. I would kill you if I could."

"Then do it." The sword hilt was suddenly turned his way. "Take that blade and kill me."

Mismatched eyes stared at the offering. Worn leather invited him to touch, polished steel glittered to him. He knew what he would do with it if he took that sword. He couldn't kill Archer in cold blood. Not even for the betrayal and the pain. He could tolerate shame too well. But to lose someone he loved like this, with his own hands and with full intention. Why would this happen to him twice? What God had he insulted? Were two hundred years of shame not enough?

Jareth couldn't take that sword to use it on Archer.

Toby growled and the fingers dropped, startled.

Of course, to Toby, the sound was completely natural. He didn't take kindly to people pointing swords at those he loved. It made him angry. It was a base anger, almost primitive, deriving from dark spaces and protective viciousness. Dropping his knives he transformed. There was no fanciful fluttering of ribbons or white cloth when he transformed; he simply stepped into it.

Archer started back when the mortal padded forward on silent paws. "A wolf? Enchanting, dear heart, but I believe you know that wolves are not invulnerable. And you will be dead before long."

The blade was snatched back and the two circled each other warily, the wolf growling as his hackles rose at the smell of evil.

The echoes in the hall faded as Jareth looked down at his own hands. White- too white- with bloodless knuckles from driving his nails into his palms so hard. There were scratches on the back of his hands. His skin would not hold the scars but he could still trace them in spite of that. He smelled of something sweet and spicy, something perfumed. Like the prized concubine of a rich and powerful noble, which- ironically- was what he had become. Love... how had Archer conceived of this as love?

A high yelp of pain caught his attention as the wolf nursed a gash on its ribs.

Blood! There was blood on his bond mate. Each and every time, he had brought Toby to this monster! If it had not been for his selfish whims Toby would never have been in the Underground. Archer would never have perceived him as a threat. And his children; Jareth wasn't the paternal kind but Toby would be. Toby could take them Aboveground and raise them. Sarah was a strong woman and she would help him.

Sarah...

"No Labyrinth this time," he smirked.

No magic and mirrors. No absolute power. Just luck and intelligence.

One of the knives had spun over the floor to his feet and he picked it up, testing the blade on his thumb. His skin parted almost immediately and he hissed. Neither Archer nor Toby heard him. They had discounted him as weak and vulnerable.

It was a mistake on both their parts. He waited, knife in hand, calmly counting down the seconds.

Toby limped slightly as he coiled low to the floor. Archer had been fighting very well for the last few minutes and he doubted he would win this. But he could not, and would not, leave his rapist to torment him. Not any more. But every touch, every glance, every whisper of voice took him back- to that first rape, to the night at the lake, to the way Archer had hit him.

And that night when the pain had almost become too much. Only to pretend to care!

"_Tell me... how does he touch you... he'll keep coming back for you... _" Everything Archer had said to him replayed in his head, telling Toby that Archer had no reason to stop simply because they knew each other for their true faces. Why should Archer stop?

He howled and leapt, fangs bared as he made contact with the fairy. They both went down, rolling a little as he went for the throat.

Jareth waited. He knelt just behind them and waited. When the time was right, he raised the blade. "I'm sorry," he said in advance, just seconds before knocking the wolf n the head so hard that it yelped and scrabbled away.

Archer was disoriented by the sudden change in circumstance when the knife found his ribs. Then he looked up to absolutely cold dual-coloured eyes framed by dyed-black hair. The knife dug in to the hilt and Jareth twisted it cruelly into him. Archer opened his mouth to cry out but blood frothed up and choked him.

"I did warn you," the Goblin King murmured, yanking the knife free and standing up.

Toby shook his head and got shakily to his feet. Jareth was beside him, giving him a shoulder to lean on. He accepted it silently, still dazed.

Archer sat up and watched them, brown eyes desperate.

"Do you know, you really are the most tiresome creature," Jareth sighed, "You will not even die fast enough."

The fairy dropped back and stared up at the ceiling, futilely trying to stifle the blood welling up. Pine and smoke, everywhere was pine and smoke and he had craved so much more than this! This was not how it was supposed to be! Jareth belonged with him; Jareth was his. All he had wanted was love. The mortal could not be allowed to touch what was his.

"Come, Toby. I think our work here is done."

He was left to die alone.


	16. Comfort

Toby shuddered for a moment, still unsteady from the blow. His head throbbed, but at least he didn't think there was any blood. A choked sound from the ground beside him and he followed his bond mate down, wrapping his arms around the slender frame, wincing privately as a fist unknowingly hit a tender spot on his body. "Hush," he whispered, "It will be all right."

"Dead... Archer..."

"He's dead, yes. I'm sorry, my love, so sorry."

"I'm not sorry. I wanted to kill him. I love him. I never would have... I... he..."

"Hush, sweetness, it's all over now."

Jareth was alternately sobbing and cursing, spitting vicious words to someone that he couldn't reach. The robe was off one shoulder and he was barefoot, as he always was. His dark hair was wild around his face and his eyes blazed- with emotion, with pain, with relief, with anger. And the collar glittered and gleamed as he tried to call on his magic, as his memories came rushing back.

Toby carefully slipped a hand around his back, trying to unobtrusively reach the clasp on the collar without alerting his bond mate. But it was a lost cause. To someone who had lived by their body for seven years, the smallest breath of air was perceptive and Jareth certainly felt the fingers fumble at the nape of his neck.

Toby caught his breath, anxious for his husband's frailty and not sure how he would react. Jareth half-turned his head, tears stopped, emotion forgotten as he calculated this new turn of events.

"Well, get it off," he eventually sniffed, "Or must we wait the rest of the day."

Toby gurgled with laughter but willingly complied. The clasp was stuck and he couldn't get the little bar to lift from position. "It's almost off," he murmured, "I'll just use some magic and... voilâ! All done." He tugged the metal off and flung it down to the ground in disgust, sitting back politely as Jareth raised his hands to rub his skin. "Better now?"

"Much," the former Goblin King replied. He made to stand.

"Standing will be good, but hold on. I think everything will just rush into you for a few minutes," Toby warned, helping the other male to his feet. He didn't choose to notice that Jareth snatched his hand away and averted his face. But he did know enough to understand that Jareth would retreat if he approached him now. He remembered that- the feeling that he would scream if so much as one person touched him again, no matter how much he loved them. And Jareth didn't love him, didn't really love him...

The Goblin King almost hit the ground again.

"Whoah! I think I'd better..."

"Let. Go."

"Fine." Toby let go and stood back, a hand outstretched in case the half-goblin needed it.

Jareth didn't need it. He had never needed anything less. What he needed, was that handy little Aboveground gadget that humans called a 'gun' so he could blow his brains out. He didn't need people trying to help him, staring at him with mournful eyes and offering him good advise. He just wanted them to stop staring!

"I think a change of clothes is in order," he commented neutrally. He flexed his hands, feeling the power spark off them. It crackled over him, almost tangible as it coated his tongue and pumped into his blood. With it came another sense, a sense of another person; but he quickly shut that down again. He didn't want another person in his head. He couldn't handle it.

He raised his hands and looked at them- manicured, cared for, wrists bruised and scarred. Rope, chain, scarves... people too, when there were enough. He attempted to call upon his magic and felt it jolt inside him, not quite as smooth as it used to be.

How had he instructed Toby?

'_Take it one step at a time. Start with the top and picture each change, feel it, plan it down to the last detail and trace it out with your magic and your senses._'

Start at the top- his hair. He picked up one of raven black strands of hair and suddenly clipped it off. "Hold that, please," he demanded, holding it out to Toby. The mortal took it silently and clenched his fist around it. He grew the strand back and then shut his eyes, remembering it as it once was, remembering the exact way that the silver flecked through it and how it looked when he walked into moonlight. The exact feel and texture, slightly coarse, long and light.

"You've done it," Toby said quietly, "Your hair's back to normal."

He opened his eyes and looked at another strand. The colour was mostly right. Perhaps when he could see properly, or when he could sense himself the way he once could, he would check again. For now, it would do.

The process was slow. Toby watched, dark lock of hair clenched in his hand as Jareth dressed and re-dressed, painfully indecisive. A few bitter curses in the goblin language were whispered out into the air. Toby smiled a little, but didn't dare show his humour openly. It wasn't even humour in any case; there was nothing to be humorous about here.

"Jareth, before I take you to the others, I think we should take a little walk," he said bluntly, restless by the time the former Goblin King was admiring his new boots.

The result was remarkable. "Aidan! Oh Gods, I need to get to him now. The guards will be searching and they..."

"Which is why I want you to come with me. Come on! I'm not giving you up to them and we can't lead them back to the cave."

Jareth found his hand seized and then found himself being dragged to the nearest tree and told to climb it. He looked at Toby, looked up at the tree and then stared at Toby again. "Climb?" he enquired.

"Yes! We need to hide. I can't fight them and neither can you," Toby hissed, "You can climb a tree, can't you?"

The half-goblin smiled, a rather terrifying smile all things considered- "Oh, I can climb a tree, my elf." He never said a word about the irony. It was funny how climbing a tree figured at both ends of his relationship with Archer- at their first meeting, and at the end. It seemed fitting, all things considered.

The sound of the soldiers was almost non-existent. They were well trained. Toby had almost caught no warning scent of them on the breeze. Of course, the exotic perfume that Jareth was wearing was heavy enough to drown out the smell of anything! He made a mental note to get rid of it later.

"Down there," Jareth whispered, pointing to the shadows moving silently around the area.

Toby nodded and readied a knife, putting the dark lock of hair into the sheath for safekeeping. A hand on his arm stopped him. "I won't fight them. I aim well, though." The hand was taken away.

Aim.

Throw.

A fairy fell with a knife in her throat. Toby grimaced at the prickle of his conscience and readied the next one. It was a wonder the others hadn't heard that choked gasp. He would have! But then his hearing was better than most.

Another knife whistled quietly through the trees and another fairy fell.

Jareth smiled. Those two were all right, but he recognized three others on the other side of the tree. Moving quietly, he shifted position. Now was not the best time to perform such a spell but he was damned if he didn't revenge himself on the three from the group that had raped him. Multiple times, if he wasn't mistaken.

Toby stiffened as the soft voice began to chant. The words were none that he had heard except once- when he had first seen Jareth greet Archer. Why was Jareth using the Old Language? And why were the words shooting a very large amount of apprehension into his brain.

Jareth chuckled quietly and dropped down from the branch.

"Jareth, no, wait!"

"It is quite safe, Toby. These three won't be going anywhere," the half-goblin called up cheerfully.

Toby climbed down, only to find his bond mate shedding his coat and walking to pick up one of his knives. He stared open-mouthed as Jareth casually walked to first one, the other and the last, cutting a single rune into their backs with the sharp blade. All three seemed unconscious and they made no move.

"Jareth, what's that?" he managed, pointing to the knife.

"An old spell, my dear. A very vicious spell." Jareth handed him his knife and sat down comfortably on the ground. "Would you like to see it work?"

Toby hesitated. A good decision would be going back to his friends and family, going back to protect those he needed to protect. A bad decision was revenge. And then he looked at Jareth's eyes- saw the anger and pain and grief in them. He didn't know how it had happened; he didn't know why Jareth recognized him so suddenly. But he could guess that Jareth needed this. He sat as close to him as he dared and watched.

For the first ten minutes, nothing happened. And then something began to move beneath the earth. Toby had spent enough time with elves to know that earth never just shifted because it felt like it.

"What the..."

"Patience, Toby. You will see. This is a wonderful spell." Jareth's grin was positively satanic.

The bodies began to stir. The runes vanished and the ripped shirts mended themselves so that no evidence was left on the backs. A female blurrily caught sight of their prey sitting calmly off to the side and tried to stand.

"I advise you to sit, my dear," Jareth called, "My fieries get excited when you run."

"The fieries? You called the fieries?"

"I summoned them, Toby. They aren't creatures like any you know. For the most part they are mischievous fire sprites that like causing chaos. But they were once vengeance spirits in the forgotten past. Fae and goblin peoples offered them sacrifices. I invoked the spell to summon them now, as gods and deities. My sacrifice- these poor fools here."

"Jareth, no, you..."

The fairies were on their feet and lurching drunkenly to them, blinking pretty eyes in an effort to clear them. Jareth simply smiled, a smile of blissful contemplation. The sound of music and revelling was beginning to sing through the forest.

Toby knew ever after that they had sat there for two hours, watching as the cheerfully inane fieries dismantled the fae with many a song and much laughter. He almost threw up when one pushed his hand into the warm, pulsing cavity of a screaming male's stomach and pulled out his liver, swallowing it raw. Jareth never opened his mouth, or joined in the laughter. But he watched every minute with a grim smile playing over his lips.

When it was done, Toby was light-headed and green. Jareth made the appropriate gestures of thanks and dismissed the fieries, turning away from them as they swung away through the foliage talking of a lucky escape from the Fairy Queen's cages and how no one wanted to kill anyone anymore in the Underground.

"Are you quite done?"

Jareth was pale and his mouth was an ugly gash in his face. His fingers were shooting sparks for some reason as he fought to maintain control of the emotions and power that writhed inside him. "No," he bit out, "Archer's domain will cease to exist. But not tonight. There is one in that Castle that I must speak with. Let them tremble in their stone fortress and wait for my vengeance. The morning will come soon enough for them."

"More?" Toby sighed, "Jareth, I know you hurt, but you cannot kill everyone simply because of Archer."

"I am not. I killed Archer because of what he did. I killed the guards for the same reason. No one in that palace lifted a finger to help me, Toby; no one. Ariadne was worse than the lowest peasant amongst them. I failed to protect her and she died. Do you know how? She was beaten to death."

Toby winced and touched the wound on his ribs. It was shallow and it could wait. Jareth's pain could not. "Jareth, you cannot blame yourself for that. Archer ordered her death, not you."

"I watched her die. With every denial, I watched them beat her. With whips and clubs and sticks, I watched them beat her. And I shut my eyes and said nothing."

Oh. Well, that did put a different spin on things. Toby naturally didn't see what it could cost Jareth to save a life, but there was so much he didn't know. How would he know what Jareth was being asked to do?

"Archer ordered me to call him 'Master'. I refused. Ariadne was just lying in the corner, waiting for his command just like she always did. She was asleep," the raw silk voice broke, "And that monster sent her to her death."

"I'm sorry."

Mismatched eyes looked to him, dispassionately taking in the sadness and sympathy, and came to a perplexing belief- "No, you're not. You can't be. You never met her. You do not know what she suffered. You never saw her eyes when the life faded from them. I did. I called Archer 'Master' with everything in me after that."

"Why?"

Jareth began to walk. Aimlessly, really, because he had no idea where he was going. The high-collared black shirt was thick and wrapped every inch of his skin from his neck to his waist, lace cuffs falling over his gloved hands. The black coat was long and simple, buttoned over his waist and falling mid-calf. Even the boots seemed to be trying to hide him as much as possible. "He threatened to do the same to Aidan."

"What?" Toby stopped, stunned and shocked. A child? Archer would have let a child be beaten to death? "That bastard!"

"Yes. And he touched you. I am sorry for that. I wish there was more I could say."

Toby touched the wound again and wished it too. There was plenty that Jareth could say but too much was happening too fast, as always. And they were approaching the cave. He now had another problem on his hands.

"Father!"

Jareth looked up and cursed, moving faster to get to his son. The child was scared and confused as he rushed to the only familiar person in the world gone mad. The dwarf had tried to calm him and then that- that girl had said he was her brother! How dared she! His father was his; this girl couldn't have him. He burst into tears as his father picked him up.

"Aidan, stop crying," Jareth sighed, "Come, my son. There's nothing to cry for, is there?"

Aidan nodded, knowing this talk by heart. He gulped his tears away and let the familiar feel of hands rubbing circles on his back soothe him. But then he opened his eyes, and everything felt different. He picked up a lock of moon-blond hair in his hands and stared at it, blinking in confusion as he fought the evidence of his eyes.

"Do you like it?" Jareth whispered, leaning his forehead against his son's. The child was frowning now, staring at the lock of hair as if it would bite him.

"Why did you change it?" Aidan demanded.

"I didn't change it, Aidan. My... Archer- the Fairy Lord- made me make it black. It's really yellow."

"Not yellow," Aidan said decisively.

"Not yellow? Then what is it?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know. That's all right. We will think of that colour tomorrow. We are going to take a long journey, Aidan. These people are taking us back home. We're going to see goblins and a big Labyrinth and a Castle- all our own and no one will tell us what to do."

"But Leela!"

Jareth bit his lip and turned to look at Toby. The fire-blond was staring at his son with a peculiar mixture of thoughts in his eyes. He wanted so much for this to be a happy reunion, but he didn't assume it would be. He couldn't spring all of this on Aidan all at once. The child would be terrified. He pleaded silently for Toby to forgive him, silently promised him the world if only Toby would not press the issue.

Aidan looked around to see that the male with the blue eyes was staring at him. Not knowing quite what to do, Aidan did what came naturally- he stuck his tongue out and squeezed his eyes shut again before burrowing into the crook of his father's neck.

Toby blinked. The child had just stuck his tongue out at him! In the midst of madness and drama and angst and secrets revealed, his unknown son had glared at him with all the petulance of a five-year-old and stuck a small pink tongue out at him! A giggle bubbled up. Then he caught sight of Arradine's face. He began to chuckle louder. Aidan peeped at him suspiciously with those big blue eyes and that did it. He began to laugh, rolling onto his back in the mud and laughing weakly up at the sky.

Archer!

Oh God, Archer had been behind this entire catastrophe! His rape, the war, Jareth's capture... every bit of angst and pain had happened because Archer couldn't fight his obsessive love for someone who he should never have thought of in the first place.

"My elf, you're frightening the child," Jareth remarked, turning to look at the convulsing mortal on the ground.

"I c-can't help it..." he was off again.

Jareth watched him. Toby was laughing so hard he gasped, hands clutching at his stomach. The former Goblin King could not, however, share the mirth. He wanted to scream, to cry, to burrow somewhere warm and dark and childishly pretend that nothing was happening because no one could see him. He wanted to die.

Aidan tugged at his sleeve. "Father, who is that?"

Jareth looked along the little finger to see a little girl. She was watching him with the same blue eyes, innocent and worldly all in one glance, silver-blond hair framing her face in uneven lengths. Who was that, indeed! "Arradine?" he guessed.

The girl took a step forward and looked from father to son. The adult she knew; she remembered him from her dad's description and from the crystal. But who was the boy? He said the male was his father! "Dad?" she called, "Daddy?"

Toby got off his back and walked around to get to his daughter. He still giggled sporadically, the loss of blood from the gash across his ribs not helping matters. He put an arm around Arradine and gently took her closer. "Jareth, I think you remember Arradine. Arra, sweetheart, say hello."

"Hello," she muttered, staring at him.

Jareth nodded, choking slightly because Aidan's arms had tightened around his neck. "Aidan, let go, please. Gently, luv, gently." Managing to pry Aidan's arms looser, he nodded to Toby and spoke quietly in Aidan's ear. The child shook his head and pouted. Jareth ignored him... again. "Aidan, say hello to Arradine and- and Toby."

"Hi, Aidan," Toby said softly, holding out his hand.

Aidan pressed back and flicked distrustful eyes over that hand. "No."

A look of panic and pain crossed the former Goblin King's face as he opened his mouth to counteract that statement, but Toby hushed him. He hadn't expected anything else. Aidan obviously didn't trust anyone besides his father. It would take some time.

"I'm sorry," Jareth muttered, raking a hand through his hair, "I'll explain it to him later." His eyes fell on the others, the ones standing behind his husband and he stiffened, wild-eyed and embarrassed. Almost as a habit, he made to pull his robe closer, conscious of how he looked to Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus.

Toby noticed the direction of that glance and turned slightly. "Hoggle, could you take Arra back to the cave? I think I need a few minutes to talk to Jareth. Uh, Jareth, do you think Aidan will go with them?"

Jareth glanced down at his son and smiled reassuringly. "He can't hurt us now," he whispered, "Go with the dwarf and I will come find you later. Okay?"

Aidan looked reluctant but went obediently enough. It was a puzzling thing considering his mistrust of strangers. But Toby had other things to think about. He waited while Sir Didymus bid the former Goblin King welcome and then listened sharply to make sure everyone had gone before daring to approach. Jareth just stood there, trapped in his normally controlled appearance with the wild animal staring out of his eyes.

It would take a long time to heal. Toby felt his own emotional wounds rip open as he remembered the callus way Archer had lied to him. Every soft touch or comforting look, the way the Fairy Lord had pretended to want to help him, when all the time he was driving him insane. Toby felt the fear and doubt flood him once more. And he knew Jareth felt the same.

The Goblin King was staring at him with a curiously bewildered look in his eyes, stiff and unsure.

Toby reached timidly for him, expecting him to move away, expecting to see disgust on Jareth's face. He had left him there, after all, for seven years. He was no fit mate for Jareth, never had been. He had only ever brought sadness and chaos. What right had he to expect to be allowed to taste those tears?

Jareth accepted the embrace, stepping into it with a soft, heartbroken sigh, the tears trickling slowly from under his eyelids as he stopped fighting. He didn't have the strength to keep fighting. For seven years, he had fought to stay alive and healthy, to keep himself and his child in one piece. And now they were over and he was no longer a slave. But he couldn't forget. He couldn't stop his body reacting the way Archer had taught it to react.

When Toby bit softly at his neck and pulled him to the ground, he followed willingly, needing and aching to forget.

The mortal laid his husband on his back and straddled him. Jareth never saw the pain of that first, swift impalement. He had his eyes closed, luxuriating in the pleasures he had not had for many long years. Archer had never allowed him inside him and Archer had never treated him with such capable gentleness. So he never knew that Toby was bleeding, or that the stinging pain grew worse with each movement.

He did see the tears, however, and he did feel the small figure huddle closer for warmth when it was all over, both of them sated and comforted.

Toby stared at his husband for a long time after Jareth fell asleep, keeping watch as he felt the throbbing ache recede with each inactive minute. He hadn't minded the pain. He had known he was too tight for something like that; seven years did tend to do that to the most limber of bodies. And he didn't care. Jareth had needed it; he had needed it. And it had been wonderful.

He held his lover close and gently let his magic out to strip that annoying perfume away, leaving only pine and smoke to be breathed in. And just like so many years ago, Toby filled his lungs with it as he drifted off into a fitful sleep.


	17. Never Quite Sure

Author's Note: Archer's dead and I miss him so much. It's sad when love becomes so hard that it makes us go crazy. Poor Archer. Four hundred years of knowing he was incestuously in love with his first cousin and it's no wonder he did what he did. Not, of course, that I ever condone what he did. Those kinds of relationships are meant only for consenting adults. Which reminds me- if you're too young, please don't read. I don't want to corrupt anyone's mind.

Author's Note 2: There's a long way to go before we reach the end. Have I mentioned that this is an epic series? Well, in my head it is. If people think I should stop, you need only mention it. Seriously, if this ever goes too far (like it hasn't already!) please do say so. Don't just sit there and shake your head.

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Toby glared at the fruit in front of him and stuck up his nose. It wasn't snobbery; he'd throw up if he tried to eat it. No one, of course, noticed a thing. Why would they? They had enough to worry about without noticing that he was ill in the mornings, suffered from headaches and mood swings, and felt bloated and itchy.

More importantly, Jareth had enough to worry about without noticing.

"Damned Goblin King," he muttered.

The sounds of suppressed childish giggles and a rich deep chuckle made him quiver where he sat and imagine for one wild moment that Archer was back. If the nightmares could come back, then surely his dark shadow could too?

"Arra, no!"

"Aidan, she won. Don't pout, child."

"I want to win."

"I won; I won!"

"Not fair!"

"Is it, now?"

Toby could almost hear the silent query as to what the little boy's basis of comparison was. He could just see the quick smirk on the corners of Jareth's lips. And it made him growl and fling the fruit to the ground, walking purposefully in the opposite direction.

The voices became dimmer, faded away in the distance as he kept walking. His stomach was queasy and he wished that the world would stop spinning every morning. Except it wasn't just mornings, was it? No, every so often the sickness would extend into the evenings. He hadn't slept last night because he'd felt too lethargic and sick to find a comfortable position.

"Just bloody great! There's another month or so of this bloody long trek and I just happen to fall pregnant! Me and my great ideas! God, what possessed me to sleep with him now? We can't afford this! I can't do magic like this..."

"Like what?"

"Aargh!"

The former Goblin King jumped away just in time before the crystal hit him in the face. It landed in a bush and burned a few of the leaves. Jareth straightened up, raised an eyebrow at the injured plant and then looked enquiringly to his bond mate. "What cannot we afford and why can you not do magic?"

Toby clenched his fists in a sudden- and not very rational- rage. "How long have you been following me? I came here to get away from all of you."

"You were upset this morning," Jareth explained, hands outspread in the universal gesture of stating the obvious, "And I have something to say to you."

Toby went cold. The tunic was suddenly not warm enough and he took a step back, eyes wide as he pulled the brown linen closer to himself.

Jareth frowned slightly, but chose to ignore it. After all, the trees never allowed much of the summer to actually penetrate into the forests. It was quite possible that the mortal might feel cold. "I spoke with Aidan today. I told him about you."

"Oh."

Jareth sighed. "Is that all you have to say? He is a little uncertain, but at least he now knows."

"I see. Well, it should go easier now that he and Arradine are friends."

"She is a positive breath of fresh air, that child." Jareth shifted a little uncomfortably. "You've done very well by her, my elf."

Toby flushed and then rolled his eyes at himself. Of course he'd done a good job by his daughter; he loved her! Why did an acknowledgement of that make him blush like a schoolboy? Or, his overactive brain supplied, like a lovesick youth complimented by his secret crush.

"Is something wrong?" Jareth was beginning to look closely at him, disconcerted by the silence and conflicting emotions. It wasn't that he could actually feel what Toby felt- they had neither of them been ready to let a stranger into their private thoughts that easily- but he knew human nature. Being four hundred and fifty-nine years old did bring some experience with it. And Toby had never been very good at keeping things from him. He was just too open. "Toby, if there is something troubling you..."

"Jareth, are you sleeping with me tonight?"

The half-goblin drew back instantly, panic flickering in his eyes. "No."

"Why not?" Toby walked closer, reaching out as if to ask for his hand. "I'd be very gentle. We don't even have to do anything. You know I won't hurt you..."

Jareth actually pulled his face away from Toby's touch. "I know," he said, a little too quickly, "But not tonight. I- I think we need some time to get used to each other."

"We're married! We have all the time in the world!"

And they were. But then again... Jareth didn't want Toby that close. What if the mortal found out? What if he found out the truth and knew him for what he was, what would Toby do? What would his children do? The thought of losing his offspring was like a blow to the middle and he gasped as he felt an icy bolt of lightening strike through him.

Toby rushed to his side and held him up. "What's wrong?" he demanded, feeling tense muscles bunch beneath his hands, "Are you hurt?"

"Not hurt." Jareth grit his teeth and straightened, shaking off that concerned grasp with a self-conscious clearing of his throat. "You simply startled me. This is the reason that I think we should sleep apart for now."

Toby shrugged. "All right, then. Um, do I now expect Aidan to call me 'dad' or will that take some more time."

"It depends on him," Jareth replied somewhat stiffly, "I told him to call you that ridiculous moniker should he wish to. Whether he will is his decision. But he knows what our... relationship is, and who you are. I can't promise it will be easy."

And there- silence. Eventually Toby slunk off to go do whatever it was he had wanted to do in the first place and Jareth stood there, leaning against the trunk of a particularly old tree and thinking. As usual, the former Goblin King was not thinking the most pleasant of thoughts. Revenge never helped, he knew that; he knew better than to expect that killing all of Archer's people and razing his cousin's luxurious old palace to its foundations would help. Killing never had solved problems.

But it still made him feel better.

He smiled unwillingly, unable to help that cruel curl of the lips when he heard once more the cries for help and the pleas for mercy. Stalking through the Castle and bringing punishment with no more than a flick of his fingers- he had killed them all; no one had escaped. Then he had stood there and watched while the fortress burned, secure in the knowledge that those who had had a hand in his torture had died particularly slow and painful deaths, while those who had simply ignored him had been killed swiftly and cleanly, with no pain and little foreshadowing.

Oh, it had been wonderful! The feeling of power coursing through him once more! And the tang of black magic lending it all such a delicious danger. He hadn't used black magic for far too long. He'd been careful not to touch any of the others with his hands after that.

And then the smile faded. Toby had tried to touch him. He raised his head and looked down the path that his bond mate had taken. The bond ached within him to go to the mortal, to find him so that the distance of the past seven years could finally be eased.

"It's just not that easy," he sighed, deliberately taking the opposite direction.

It hadn't even been easy that morning- waking up to the dawn, as he had been trained-only to find himself outside of that seven-year nightmare. No longer in the dungeons, no longer chained, no longer expected to... he had shut down that train of thought. A thin, muscular leg pinning his hips down, and a head of bright gold hair spilled across his chest- Toby. Golden skin in the setting sun and how his lover had licked the tears from his face with a soft, raspy pink tongue; being held so close that it suffocated him; the sticky feeling on his thighs. Blood. Jareth had pushed Toby gently from him only to find blood.

And that, bad puns aside, was what had torn it.

He'd rampaged. Dressed in white- the Old Ones' colour for death- eyes flaming and unpredictable as the twisting turns of his Labyrinth in all its glory. He had killed and maimed and enjoyed it. Leela alone had been spared when he found her cringing in the corner of one of the luxurious bedrooms. He let her go relatively unharmed, only pausing to rip her tongue painlessly from her mouth. She had sympathized and tried to help, but she had spoken out to no one. If she couldn't speak for him, she couldn't speak for anyone.

"Sire?"

"Here," Jareth called easily, drawing his gloves back on. There were still trace hints of black magic on him. "What is it, Sir Didymus?"

The knight bowed, completely unaware that there was a leaf stuck in his whiskers. "Sire, I hoped to speak with you on a matter of grave importance."

The former Goblin King suppressed a groan. "Sir Didymus, I have little time now for speech, especially the very long kind. Get on with it."

"Yes, Sire. Sire, it concerns Lord Toby. He- he does not seem very well, Sire. And frankly, I am a trifle worried. I do not like to tell you but I thought it only prudent to warn you."

"Really. He seems quiet and he seems in need of silent reflection; that is all."

Sir Didymus actually forgot his courtesy enough to shrug, a gesture that was usually too informal for him to indulge in. "He seems ill," he replied simply, his good eye worried, "He seems in need of someone to confide in. Perhaps we should make our way to the elves, Sire?"

"No! Whatever worries him can wait. He may go if he chooses, on his own, and he may take the children with him. I will go to the Goblin City. Am I understood?"

Sir Didymus bowed hurriedly as Jareth strode off past him, obviously upset over something. The dog huffed in relief at still having his head, a relief that Hoggle told him was well founded.

"He don't seem in no good humour these days," the dwarf had complained, pointing to Toby, "But even his temper don't compare to Jareth's."

If the former monarch could hear the conversation, he made no mention of it. He sat on the other side of the clearing, with his son's head in his lap, stroking the golden hair back as he crooned a lullaby. Arradine sat beside him and he had an arm protectively around her shoulders, smiling down as she drifted off to sleep against his side.

Toby was already lying down, curled up and deathly still though his eyes were open. Whatever his mind was on, it was obvious not on anyone around him.

Hoggle leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I think there's something wrong," he whispered, "Toby don't seem himself, sure, but it's more than that."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Ssh! Quiet! You want Jareth to hear us? He'll have our heads! Something happened with that Fairy, something they ain't telling us."

Sir Didymus looked bewildered, his innocent trust in the world not finding anything particularly deceitful in either Jareth or Toby's vagueness on what had happened. "Well, Lord Toby went in and fought that false warrior; he returned with King Jareth. What more is there?"

"For one thing, Jareth ain't King any more," Hoggle sniffed, a cautious glance sent in the direction of the singer, "For another, we don't knows what that Archer did to him. And they's both been getting nightmares. And they boths don't want nothing to do with each other after that first night they, er, spent away from us, so's to speak."

The audience reaction was fixed on one part of those observations. "Lord Toby's been getting nightmares? I know King Jareth won't sleep, but- but Lord Toby too? It is worse than I thought, friend Hoggle! We must assist him! We must speak with him; rid his mind of these troublesome thoughts."

"What? No, we mustn't! He don't wants us knowing anything about it, else he would have told us. And besides, he's asleep. Maybe he won't dream tonight."

Ludo sat down heavily beside them and Hoggle suddenly noticed that the great gingery beast was holding a child in each arm, rumbling in his chest while he wrapped them in blankets and laid them down. Hoggle gulped, realizing the implications of losing track of the half-goblin during such a conversation.

He peered anxiously over his shoulder and gave a quick sigh of relief, only to turn around quickly again with a self-conscious clearing of his throat. "We should go to bed," he said hurriedly, motioning both his friends to lie down, "We, er, has a long day tomorrow."

"King. Touch Toby?" Ludo pointed out, obviously puzzled.

Hoggle turned around again, catching the sight of the Goblin King sitting by his bond mate, a curiously blank look on his face as he stroked the golden hair. Toby seemed uneasy, tossing a little in his sleep under that hand. Hoggle couldn't hear what he whispered.

"That is none of our business," the dwarf warned, getting into what served as bedding and wrapping it tight around himself, "They won't appreciate us watching, they won't. Now go to sleep."

Ludo sat with the two children, as he did every night, and Sir Didymus curled up with a snuffling Ambrosius. The three shut their eyes determinedly and in spite of all the confusion, sleep came easily to them.

Which was something neither Toby nor Jareth could boast of. The fire-blond had succeeded in falling asleep, but his dreams woke him no less than two minutes later, sweating and whimpering lightly in his throat. Archer's face haunted him, and the crimson red of his blood as he died on the floor of his Hall of Mirrors. Toby shuddered, blinking up at the pitch-black night sky, scared and unsure.

A white hand slid around his waist and gently pulled him closer. "Sleep, child," Jareth rumbled in his ear, "You're safe."

Toby shivered once more. But the stark words were a comfort and he settled down thankfully, the nightmare receding. Archer's rich voice grew fainter under the gentle breathes of his husband. Warm air brushed tantalizingly over the back of his neck.

Many minutes later, he heard a quick gasp behind him.

"Jareth?" The blond head shook slightly as the eyes rolled beneath the closed eyelids. A slight grimace on Jareth's face completed Toby's suspicions. "Jareth, wake up. Wake up. You're having a bad dream."

Mismatched eyes flew open and Jareth pulled away, once more disoriented and once more dangerous. Toby held his breath, a hand on his stomach where the new life grew with such fragility. And then he relaxed when Jareth blinked and shifted.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Was it..."

"Nothing. It was nothing."

Toby nodded. He couldn't force the issue just yet. Not yet. Not after having woken up alone. His rear-end still hurt too. There was no form of comfort he could offer that Jareth would take. "Do you want me to move away?"

Jareth shrugged and shut his eyes again. "Take what comfort you need from me," the former Goblin King murmured. And that was all.

Toby continued to stare. Three times was he forced to wake his bond mate up that night, and all three times Jareth never spoke or cried out. He went back to sleep with the nonchalance of someone who didn't care what he dreamed. And he slept on until Toby woke him up.

When morning came, he woke up, disappeared into the forest to complete those private bodily functions that they all took different directions to appease, and came back with a smile for his children and that dead, angry look in his eyes for everyone else.


	18. Take Back the Kingdom

Author's Note: Did someone mention a pesky Fairy Queen had to be taken care of? And we see just how far Jareth is willing to go to get revenge. It's a two-chapter deal, so the next one is a direct continuation.

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Jareth couldn't believe his eyes. He had seen the destruction of his Labyrinth in his crystals and he knew that there was a reason that the Spirit would not answer his summons, but this was beyond anything he'd ever dreamed of.

The walls were broken and torn apart, whole sections of the ancient structure had disappeared. The glow and gleam of the enchanted stone was faded. Now it looked like nothing so much as a pile of scattered rock. Even the ground was dark and dry, cracked and lifeless.

"Jareth, is it too bad?"

Toby. He turned to look at the mortal next to him, anxious blue eyes raised to scan his face somewhat fearfully. Did Toby even realize, he wondered tiredly, that he knew about the pregnancy? No, obviously not. "I don't know. Go back to the others." Striding away without a look of reassurance.

Toby sighed. For some reason Jareth was furious with him. He couldn't think why! It wasn't that he wasn't trying to understand what was going on with his bond mate. And since that first night together... well, it hurt to be rejected every time he tried.

Jareth sat down on the ground near the broken doors, bowing his head and searching through the currents around him for that special stream of magic that the Labyrinth always carried. It ran through his blood and it was especially strong at the centre, but from out here the energy felt weak. And no wonder! Considering that the physical boundaries had been violated like that.

The words seemed a little rusty at first. But gradually the strength came back to them. Power- unbound and unfettered, leapt around him in hissing whirls. The stones began to groan and crack. The familiar orange light on his hands as the magic leapt from him. A crash in his mind and then he looked up with a shocked stare.

"Spirit?"

Toby blinked in shock. He had thought the Spirit of the Labyrinth looked in bad shape in his dream. Here, so close to its ruins, and the creature looked even worse. It could barely move as Jareth grabbed it and lowered it into his lap.

Jareth was beginning to find that anger had unimagined depths in it. He had thought he couldn't possibly feel any more and now here was his last ally- dying. His pride and joy, his Labyrinth... it wasn't going to die!

"Spirit, can you talk?" he asked urgently, "What happened?"

"The Fae Queen, Goblin King. I would not answer to her and she destroyed my walls. And You have been leeching power that is no longer as strongly fastened to me."

"I am sorry."

The dark, bronzed head shook. "There is no need. I have more than enough strength to outlive you yet."

Jareth smiled, he couldn't help it. Yes, the Labyrinth could still outlive him and everyone else. Even decimated like this. But Amarild- he had a bone to pick with her and with Archer gone she was the first target for his rage. "She will pay," he soothed, "Have no fear of that."

He rose and set the ethereal being on its unsteady feet, making sure it wouldn't fall before turning back to beckon imperiously to the others. "Hoggle, take the children to the oubliettes and keep them safe down there. Sir Didymus, go with them. Ludo, I believe you may guard the entrance to those passageways. Go."

"What do you mean to do?" the Spirit asked, interestedly.

"She stole what she should never have touched," Jareth sneered, eyes turned towards his Castle, "That is mine. This Kingdom is mine and I will have it back. The bitch will pay for her presumption."

"The bitch," Toby said quellingly, "Is still powerful. You can't just waltz in there and kill her! It'll be more trouble than it's worth."

Jareth looked genuinely amused. "Kill her?" he echoed, tossing his blond hair off his face, "I do not intend to kill her. I want her to remember every last time she humiliated me, or insulted me and I want her to regret it with every fibre of her being for the rest of her life. I want her to wish she had never been born and then I want her to live with that wish until her natural death."

That sounded hideously like something Toby could understand as only one thing- "You want to torture her."

"Oh yes. Torture is such fun!"

Toby paled and stepped back, but Jareth was staring predatorily at him, licking his lips and the tips of his sharp teeth as if about to attack. There was a hungry, commanding look in his eyes that made the mortal's knees go weak. Another word and Toby would gladly offer himself to be ripped apart and eaten. It was a dark look, one that he remembered seeing before: Archer had stared at him that way when he first needled the unknowing youth into that hazy state of insane submission.

"Stop!"

His feet stilled from the cautious walk backwards. Over Jareth's shoulder, the Spirit's eyes had widened and then half-closed. Clearly something was going on, something that affected Jareth's power because the Spirit looked like it drugged on something, swaying gently where it stood and gasping in soft mouthfuls of air.

Toby could hear the Labyrinth itself begin a sort of cackling chant, a chorus of stones almost, where the words were so low he couldn't hear them and in a language so ancient he couldn't understand it. A white hand rose to clasp the back of his neck.

"So sweet," Jareth crooned, leaning closer, "So much power in you. I want it. Give it to me."

"Jareth, I..."

"It won't hurt. Just a small favour for me, hmmm? To help me kill the witch?"

Toby shut his eyes in despair, trying to get himself to tear away from the long length of body that pressed up against him. It wasn't sexual- it went far beyond sexual into complete capture. Jareth was waging a war and he was about to be defeated.

"No, Jareth. No more death. Killed so much already," he tried to say, but a finger was on his lips, running lightly over the lower one and then dipping inside to flick over the tip of his tongue. And there was something on that finger, a particular taste or feeling. Toby licked it again of his own volition, eyes narrowed up at Jareth's smirk.

"Do you like it?" the half-goblin chuckled, dark and oh, so sensual, "That, my elf, is the taste of black magic."

Black magic! It tasted like Belgium chocolate and fine brandy, so rich and luxurious. Toby squeaked as it began to spread through his blood. "No," he was still protesting, unable to believe Jareth would do something like this just for revenge, "No! God, no, not black magic. Let it go, my love. You must. It's dangerous."

Jareth only threw back his head and laughed, a dizzying peal of laughter that drew the sky suffocatingly low over them all. "Yes, it is," he agreed, "But trust me. I know what I am doing."

"He knows," the Spirit piped up, eyes shut as it sucked in more and more of this bewitching power from its Steward, "He knows this magic, mortal. It sits in him like a long-lost friend."

Toby was being besieged. He wanted to give in. Dangerous urges were coursing through him. He wanted to taste blood and death and chaos and decay. He wanted to slaughter and rampage and command nature itself, to see the lakes boil and bubble under his emotions and see his enemies crushed with a single word. He knew what that was; that was Jareth's wishes communicated to him through the bond that the former Goblin King had wilfully thrown open again. It spoke to him with such a honeyed touch. And Jareth's hands were on his neck and his face, warm breath on his bare skin.

"Trust me..."

"Jareth, it's not right!"

He was released so hurriedly that he stumbled backwards and landed on his ass, staring up at a being so powerful that it terrified him to be anywhere in the vicinity. Unthinkingly he put his hand on his stomach, trying to protect the child he was carrying. Jareth smirked as he saw that anguished worry, the clenched fist that bunched the rumpled tunic so hard the cloth almost tore.

"It's frightening, luv, I know," he soothed, dropping to one knee with his hand out, "The child is so small and defenceless."

Toby stared. Jareth knew? How could he know? "I d-didn't mean," he stammered, "I'm s-sorry, b-b-but it just..."

"Ssh! What do you think it will be this time- a girl? Like Arradine? She will be so pretty, with your eyes and your sense of adventure. Or perhaps a boy like Aidan, with your wide mouth and your slender build. And they'll kill it."

"No!"

"Yes, they will," Jareth snapped, "Why the devil did we walk from one part of the Fairy Kingdom back to the Goblin City in secret? Because of Amarild and her folk. They deserve to die in the most cruel way, Toby; give me your trust so I can do it."

"They won't kill my child," Toby muttered, furious at himself because he wanted to believe. He wanted this child so badly. Only four months and he was so tired, so very tired. It hurt to get up in the morning, to put one foot in front of the other and keep walking. He didn't want to lose this child, but his body just wasn't coping as it should. He was too old and wasn't that a bitter thought! Only twenty-three and too old? Blaming someone else for what would undoubtedly go wrong was infinitely better than blaming himself for not eating enough, for not resting enough. The sickness was a constant companion and he had got pains almost every week so far. But he pressed on; not telling anyone, thinking it would be all okay if he just didn't think about it. "If- if it dies, it will be my fault. I'm so sorry, Jareth... my fault."

Jareth was lifting him up, holding him close, nuzzling lightly against his ear as he soothed the pain away. "No," he whispered, "Their fault. They won't let you rest. They stole everything from you. I have to get it back. Arradine's heritage, Aidan's rank, your security- it's all there to be had from Amarild's weak hands. Give me the power."

Some part of Toby knew he was being manipulated and that part hated himself for allowing Jareth to use their children as bargaining chips.

'_Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave..._'

He owed it to his husband. For everything that had gone wrong, he owed it to Jareth to help him now. Because Jareth would never have been enslaved like that if he hadn't gotten himself bonded and married to him. It was just like Archer had said- all his fault. "How?" he asked tiredly.

A deep chuckle and then Jareth stood up and scooped him up in his arms, a bright smile on his face. "Do you trust me?" the half-goblin asked.

Toby couldn't help smiling back. There was no point to denying that he would gladly give up the world for this complex creature of hurt and danger. Whatever love had been lost when the mortal grew up, had returned on the journey to this final goal. With no bond, no joy, no real reason to even like the man he was bound to, Toby had fallen in love all over again. "I trust you with everything," he promised, head against Jareth's shoulder, "But the child. It's black magic and it will hurt the child."

Jareth stiffened; he could feel him. He could feel against that familiar retreat from his mind. "I'll keep it safe. Now hold tight, my little love, you might just enjoy the ride."

His child dismissed, his scruples thrown aside, Toby obeyed and held on as the world began to spin. Jareth held him, laughing a high manic laugh as everything began to melt. It seared over flesh and through bone until Toby couldn't breath. But he couldn't speak either and he looked up, eyes caught by the horrible gleam of death in Jareth's eyes before his mouth was captured in a fiery kiss that tasted of Belgium chocolates and fine brandy.

And then the world went away and he was floating in a dark place on dark water, indescribably heavy and sleep-laden. '_Sleep_,' he heard his bond mate whisper, '_Sleep and I will awaken you when this is done_.'

His eyes shut and he knew no more.

The Spirit of the Labyrinth opened its mismatched eyes, breathing even more heavily as its Steward rose stiffly from the ground and brushed off his coat. The black magic was everywhere, seductive and sweet as it flowed through it. Unable to move, it waited silently for the former King to walk towards it, to take it in his arms and smile down at it.

And this was why black magic was so dangerous, Jareth knew. He exulted, feeling no little triumph as the power rushed through him. He could feel Toby with every shred of sense in his body and mind, could feel the child and the sickness. It angered him to know that Toby had said nothing about their child for so long when something was obviously going wrong. For the sake of the Gods, this was not the time for breeding any more either! He'd as soon have terminated the thing than bring it out to live this life!

"Your bond mate is in you?" the Spirit managed, licking its lips to maintain some semblance of control on its impulses. "That spell could have killed him, Goblin King."

"Oh, I am no King as yet, my Spirit," Jareth purred, arm around the thin waist, "Just a humble half-goblin. And my preparation is not yet complete."

"No?"

"There is one more to take. Someone with power enough to bring the Underground to its knees. With the power I already possess, Amarild will have no chance."

The Spirit, to give it credit, did not struggle. The wild exultation in its blood was not conducive to disliking the suggestion. But such a thing was unheard of! And highly dangerous! "You ask too much," it warned sternly, "Such power is too much for your physical limits. It would rip you in half."

"Spirit, I think you will find- as I have- that my body is... shall we say it is very accommodating? There are things it has done I would never have known were possible."

"But at great pain, is it not?"

"Of course. The Fairy Queen was responsible for one particular instance. She humiliated me and I will see her crawl to me and beg for mercy."

The Spirit turned that over in its head. It didn't want to know what these biological creatures did to each other. They tended to be far too sadistic for it's tastes. But revenge was something the Labyrinth could understand, and re-payment and anger. "You may die, and your bond mate with you. Can you risk that?"

Jareth smiled and nodded, clasping the creature closer as the world began to spin once more. The searing, burning feeling began as the bodies melded together. It hurt horribly, but Jareth welcomed it, a cry stuck in his throat as he threw back his head and absorbed it all. He was so uncomfortably full and yet... oh Gods, and yet! It was like being nine months pregnant all over again- filled to bursting point with life and so sensual, so conscious of everything touching your skin because of what lay beneath. It was so perfect, such a perfect state of high-strung tension.

He looked up to the Castle, and smiled.

Amarild heard that crash of thunder. She felt the magical currents around her begin to scatter in a disturbed swirl of patterns. Unlike Jareth, her strength lay in her sensitivity to those feelings. And she hurried out of the room she called her study, pulling her rolled-up sleeves down over her hands and calling for her guards.

No one answered and she cursed them.

Where was everyone when she needed them.

She spotted the door with the carved question marks and sighed with relief. This way she could get to the throne room quicker. The Griffith Chair had only just learned to mind her and was now quite pleasant, though it never responded to her coaxing attempts to befriend it.

Surprisingly enough, she walked out into the room beside the throne room and stared around her, frowning a little in confusion. She should have been taken straight to where she wanted to go. But if the magical currents were a little disturbed, anything was possible.

"Guards," she called, exiting the room and staring around in displeasure. At least two of the Fairy Queen's personal bodyguards were supposed to be on duty outside the throne room. Someone had been remiss. "Heavens help them, where are they?"

The doors to the enormous room were heavy and though she was no small little woman with weak wrists, it took her long enough to get inside. But she managed it. Only to get the shock of her life.

The giant hall with its high ceilings and arched windows had reverted to its darkly Gothic structure; the opulent furnishings she'd squandered on the place disappeared. The swathes of expensive lengths of fae silk and fine linen were gone, the embroideries and vast murals had vanished. The plush lined chairs were nowhere here too.

All there was, as her terrified brain told her, was the enormous Griffith Chair, throne of the Goblin King. And sitting in that chair with his leg over one arm and a claw cradling his moon-blond head, was the deposed King she had last seen tied to a bed.

Jareth smiled at her and jumped lightly to his feet, coming to greet her with knowing eyes. "My dear, a pleasure to see you look so well. Clearly the air in the Goblin Kingdom is good for you; much better than the poisoned gas of your fair cities. But sit down, my dear! You look positively haggard."

She found a chair behind her, gaze caught and arrested by the sight of something she had never seen before. Jareth's eyes had always been unusual. The mismatched colours and pupils had always been a fitting description of his enigmatic personality and lifestyle. But this! Pure silver eyes? What had happened?

"Here, my Queen. Perhaps a drink will restore your composure?"

Jareth flicked his fingers and a magnificently carved silver goblet presented itself at his hand, hovering respectfully to be plucked from the air. He sent it to Amarild with a bow, a smile pulling at the corners of his blue-tinged lips. Yes, blue tinged because now that she saw him in the light, he was white as snow and frosty to the look. He looked like a sculpture carved from cold marble.

"You refuse my offer?"

She hesitantly took the cup, not taking her eyes off his, searching those silver depths for whether or not he was waiting to see her ingest the poison. Amarild had no illusions about this visit. The Goblin King did not offer such solicitous concern except as a ruse. And he had plenty of reasons to want her dead. That wooden thing alone... his expression never changed and he looked slightly bored as he perched delicately on the edge of his throne again.

"I saw my Labyrinth, Amarild," Jareth began, fingers drumming on the griffith's scaled arm, "It does not look as I remember it. Nor is the Spirit of my Labyrinth as healthy. Can it be that you have had a hand in that?"

Amarild cleared her throat, forcing herself to speak. "Your Labyrinth was dangerous to my people. Five good warriors have I lost in its murderous corridors," she listed, "And the Spirit flatly refused my call. I proposed an alliance, but it never heard my words. The damage, however, is not irreparable."

"I disagree," Jareth interrupted smoothly, "The damage is worse than irreparable. My entire Kingdom will suffer for years because of it. Oh, I have mentioned that I am taking my Kingdom back, have I not? I do not think it wise of you to resist me."

Amarild's back straightened and her eyes flashed. Her fingers tightened unconsciously on the heavy goblet as if about to use it as a weapon. "You have lost your Kingdom," she snapped, "It is now the property of the ruler of the Fairy Kingdom. I suggest you not challenge that."

Jareth merely raised an unimpressed black eyebrow, his curious eyes acquiring a queer look in them. Had Amarild not known better, she would have called it blatant indifference. "Drink," was all he said, waving a gloved hand to the goblet.

Amarild automatically raised the cup to her lips, and then halted. Her eyes scanned his face but he was staring up at the ceiling, a contemplative look on his face. He would not do so if he expected her to die from the wine. Besides, that was too easy a trick for the Goblin King. He would want more from her for what she had done; he would want to see her on her knees as begging as he had done.

She drank.

And spat it out with a scream, throwing the goblet to the floor where it spilled its bright red liquid all over the unresponsive stone.

Jareth laughed, a high-pitched ring of mad delight as he snapped his fingers and stood up. The sound of a creak and then Amarild screamed again, backing hurriedly towards the door as the bodies of two of her guards crashed to lie before her, both with their throats cut and their eyes torn out. They had been dead so long that the blood was crusted around the wounds.

"Don't you like blood?" Jareth sighed, dipping the tip of his boot negligently in the red puddle on the floor, "You obviously liked draining my Kingdom of its life force; I had thought to give you a taste of your own kind. What a pity. And it was fresh-spilled too. From the very highest noble I could find."

"Archer," she gasped, backing to the door, "What- what did you do?" The Fairy Lord could not have set him free to do this, could he? Could Archer had finally made a play for the Goblin Kingdom, using the Goblin King as his weapon? Had the slave finally been driven mad enough for his memories to return?

"I killed him," Jareth said shortly, silver eyes glowing with a strange light. The pupils were bare pinpricks in those eyes. "That was not the blood I gave you. The scavengers ate his body, my Queen. His remains lie unburied in the forests of his lands; his property lies blackened and burned. Nothing will grow on that soil; nothing will find happiness living there. The House of my family is dead. Do you understand?"

"Y- yes," she whispered. There was something terrifying in the clipped, brisk way he spoke. Something that told of just how much he didn't care what he did to the people he thought needed punishment.

"And as for you, Amarild," the voice continued, "You will find it is never wise to cross me. Do you remember this?" A dark crystal twisted and writhed in Jareth's skilled hands until he transformed it into something so distinctly familiar, distinctly wooden and... bloodstained? "I wished for death the next morning. But you never saw that, did you? You will wish for death too, and I will not grant it until I am ready."

The world drained away as her trembling fingers found the door. A twist and it opened behind her.

Jareth's quiet chuckle sounded far too loud in her ears as she apparated to another room, managing to safely step out of the containment spell on the throne room, Jareth's cold smile the last thing she saw before she landed into the safety of her study.


	19. Choices

Author's Note: Um, this is a little cruel. But then with what Jareth's dabbling in, he's a cruel man. He always has been; he always will be. Don't let's forget that, hmmm?

Author's Note 2: I have no rights to either 'Width of a Circle' (which is one of the best songs I have ever heard ever) or 'Magic Dance' (where the lyrics suck but the song's cute). Both belong to the oh-so-wonderful Mr. David Bowie (may he never stop singing) and the usual people who accompany these things.

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She had been huddled there for three days now. Food would magically appear at every mealtime. Naturally, she had not eaten at all from the first meal. But it looked edible enough. And by the end of the second day she had been ravenous enough to eat the delicately cooked food and fresh fruit. A crystal glass appeared every three hours and she had been relieved to find that it contained nothing but water.

There were no drugs, no corpses... no physically harmful things at all.

But the agony of knowing, of festering in her prison as the taste of that blood replayed over her tongue and the sight of those silvered eyes replayed in her mind, was too much. And Jareth hadn't stopped his assault. He would talk to her all day, a disembodied voice in the room that wouldn't leave no matter what she did.

And when that was not enough, he would sing, the eerie sound echoing as the images he magicked onto the walls replayed like an Aboveground movie on the walls of the room.

"_In a corner of the morning in the past... I would sit and blame the Master first and last... all the roads were straight and narrow... and the prayers were small and yellow..._"

It was unnatural, the way that soft crooning voice hissed so close to her ear, unsupported by its usual music from nowhere. Amarild whirled around, eyes wide in fear. But there was no one behind her. There never was.

"_And the rumour spread that I was aging fast..._"

Aging? The Fairy Queen almost laughed. Not aging in the least, her old nemesis. Beauty incarnate with his bloodless skin and blazing eyes. Whatever trace age had left on his face was removed as black magic wound its way through his body. She could taste it in the air, in his disembodied voice, in the way her own blood thrilled at his very presence.

"_Well, I said hello and I said hello... And I asked, "Why not?" and I replied, "I dunno"..._"

Why not, indeed! The seductive drawl of the words. And Jareth's clever mind... he'd known how he could use that one night she'd played with him. The images were whirling around her, the way his tongue had felt tickling her stomach, the way three of his fingers had fit so perfectly inside her. Dear Gods, what amounts of energy was he drawing into himself to accomplish such an elaborate charade?

"_And I smashed my soul and traded my mind... got laid by a young bordello... I was vaguely half-asleep... for which my reputation swept back home in drag..._"

All the images meshed suddenly so that she was staring, terrified, at the two bodies entwined on the damp sheets, his tied hands squirming as she used... how could she have done that? The pain! She could smell it on the wraith-like unreality; she hadn't even noticed it then. And the demon sitting beside the bed watching them.

"_And the morals of this magic spell negotiate my hide... when God did take my logic for a ride..._"

The husky voice was hissing in her ear and all of a sudden, a wet tongue lashed at her earlobe. It was too much. All of it! The nights spent in half-asleep nightmares, the days spent in watchful fear... three days and she was going mad.

Amarild screamed as a cold hand brushed against her neck and she pushed away from the wall and ran from the room, leaving the images to scrawl their horrible contents over the walls. She wasn't like that; she wasn't that person. She was sorry, dear heaven, she was sorry.

The sharp clatter of her feet on the stone and the corridor wound around and around, the beat becoming sharper and fiercer, more sensuous. It pounded through her, like staccato twangs of an electric guitar. Her breath came short.

And then suddenly there was fire and tangible music, hot and flaming and a figure like crystal ice standing in front of her, a malicious smirk on his blue-tinged lips. Dressed in a disconcerting white lace robe, one long leg tantalizingly hinted at where the ragged ends of a slit side fell away from flesh. The slender waist was cinched with a leather whip, shoulders bare where the dress-like garment slipped off.

Blood dotted the entire apparition, staining the lace and the silver-white skin. But those eyes! Those pretty eyes- now silver with the different sized pupils- darkened at the edges with black. It reminded her of the girls she had seen Aboveground on the streets, the ones who offered their 'services' for money.

A white hand held that infernal goblet out to her.

"_He swallowed his pride and puckered his lips... and showed me the leather belt round his hips... my knees were shaking my cheeks a-flame..._"

Amarild felt the blush on her face, flushed from running and from the sneer on his face. Her hair was dishevelled and her pride almost broken. And he stood there like some fantastical creature of another realm, too magical and otherworldly even for the Underground, the glory of revenge incarnate. Perhaps he would have pity on her?

"..._You'll never go down to the Gods again..._"

She fell to her knees as the words were bitten out with proud relish. There would be no mercy. Jareth's gaze burned into her as he approached slowly, silent on his feet where the pounding of her running steps till sounded above the crackle of flame. The goblet was still held out to her.

"... _and I smelt the burning pit of fear..._"

She took the goblet with trembling fingers, raising it despairingly to her lips. Amarild could see no other option for herself. She would meet her death head-on. Jareth would not let her live after that night when she'd taken that hideous wooden thing and... The blood exploded on her tongue.

"... _we crashed a thousand yards below..._" His fingers took her chin, lifting it insistently to his sneering smirk. "_I said do it again, do it again..._"

She would not cry, but her body shivered out her fear and final plea for mercy.

That voice continued, the music swelling around the stinging words, so sexual and so provocative. She was lost. There was no more hope. The whip was unbelted from around that slender waist. She cringed down, offering her back for what she knew would come, hating herself for being unable to fight any more.

"_Breathe, breathe, breathe deeply... and I was seething, breathing deeply... spitting sentry horned and tailed..._"

The crack of the whip and it snapped around her right hand without so much as breaking the skin.

"... _waiting for you_".

The music faded, the words were still.

Amarild dared to look up when several heartbeats passed with no sense of movement around her. She was alone once more, this time in the kitchens. No figure in white lace; no glimpse of long pale leg; no burning, blazing, mascaraed eyes: just the empty basements of the kitchens with the worn flagstones and the spotless stoves and instruments. A butcher's knife lay discarded on the scrubbed wooden tabletop and she snatched it up, rising to her feet as she stared suspiciously around.

Nothing.

But in the cold light of reason and clear-headedness, she was infuriated with herself and him even more. "Jareth, come out," she called, "You want to fight? Then fight! You take the coward's way out."

The Queen was shivering in the kitchens; Jareth sneered as he watched her through his crystal. With a quick laugh, he began to weave his spell once more. Just once more before he ended this game. And with a special song.

The former Goblin King called to the winds and the storms, winding them tight around his Labyrinth as he gathered the energy to himself. It was not necessary, but the heightened awareness of power and greatness was more than he could resist. The Labyrinth itself was inside him, vast and immeasurable as a chasm filled with uncountable grains of sand.

The goblins trembled in fear.

The lands trembled in fear.

Amarild tried to draw what remained of her strength of mind back around her. Gathering her courage, she got to her feet, knife held warningly in her hand. The Goblin King was terrifyingly magic-maddened, but his flesh was not impenetrable. She comforted herself with that thought, shivering in the enforced tension of a deathly still stone room. Or what had been deathly still.

"_I saw my baby..._"

The ghost of a voice, too near her shoulder. She whirled but there was none there.

"_Crying hard as babe could cry...what could I do... my baby's love had gone... and left my baby blue..._"

"Jareth, stop it."

"... _nobody knew... what kind of magic spell to use..."_

The pans fell off the wall, and Amarild waited to hear them clatter to the floor but nothing happened. They hovered there, floating calmly around the room.

"... _frogs and snails... puppy dogs tails... thunder or lightening... then baby said..."_

Silence.

Her nerves screeched, waiting to hear what would come next. She was beginning to wish that her adversary would keep singing, just so she knew what he was doing. When there was silence, it meant that he was planning something. It meant something new that she couldn't fight against.

"_I saw my baby... trying hard as babe could try... what could I do_... _my baby's fun had gone... and left my baby blue..."_

The entire kitchen was coming alive and before the words could continue a tremendous earthquake shook the room, almost dragging it from side to side as the Castle shuddered from its foundations up.

Amarild cried out as her ankle twisted and she dropped the knife. She scrambled after it, but another quake came and she almost lost her balance. Strong arms scooped her up and she felt the wind as she disappeared. Then the wind was real against her face as she was dropped harshly to the ground on her bottom, the sharp click of boot heels tapping away from her.

Breathing heavily she opened her eyes.

Jareth was looking out over his Kingdom with his back to her. Dressed in a plum coat with grey leggings. Black boots gleaming up his legs to knee-high. The wind was whipping his hair from his face and she studied him fearfully from behind.

Thinking dispassionately, now, in the cruel light of sunlight, she didn't know what she was so terrified of. She could fight him; her magic was as strong and her will as great. If he killed her, then so much the better. She would die nobly, still in honour as a Queen and noblewoman. Her brother would take the throne and Armand was not as strong, but he would avenge her.

"Turn," she called, struggling to her feet amidst the folds of the dirty rose gown she wore, "Turn and fight me like a true King."

Jareth turned obediently, but only smirked coldly at her. She could barely see the silver of his irises from that distance away and the effect was peculiar. "You will not win," he shrugged, "Why try? I can offer you a deal."

Three dark crystals were in his hands and he played with them absently, picked one up and sending it far into the sky where it turned into a crow and flew away. Amarild gulped. The action warned of great power and no scruples against using the darkest means necessary to obtaining what he wanted. "What deal?"

A shark-like smile and the second crystal suffered the same fate as the first. "Renounce your throne publicly, and give it to your brother. Live by his side and enjoy the Fae Court; I really do not care. But, and you had better listen carefully, if I find you ruling through Prince Armand, I will find you. And I will kill you. Myself."

"Then you will declare war on us and we will fight this battle until the fae or goblin are all dead." Her voice cracked slightly, but she held her head up. Amarild was of royal blood; she could bear pain or death for her pride. "Is this what you condemn us to?"

Jareth shrugged again. Before Amarild could blink she was bound hand and foot and dragged to his side, his gloved hand grasping roughly at her arm as he pointed to his Labyrinth. "My people will survive the chaos you have created in my Kingdom. What would you face, were I to destroy your docks with one single word?" He snapped his fingers and she felt a band of energy tighten around her heart and begin to squeeze. "Do you doubt I can do that?"

The blood was pounding in her veins with a painful intensity. She couldn't breath. It hurt too much. The Fairy Queen shook her head violently, twisting in the cruel grip.

Jareth nodded almost pleasantly. "Good. Do you renounce your throne?" The band of energy vanished and she gulped in a few deep breathes. "You have not answered."

"No," she said quickly, "No, I do not."

She stiffened, waited for the pain, waited for the burst of her heart as Jareth exploded it within her breast. But nothing more than a sigh greeted her treachery.

"I had thought you would say that," he said, regretfully, "I am sorry, my dear." Without a word, he flicked his fingers through the air and picked out a familiar red metal collar. Without a word, he clasped it around her neck and then twisted the clasp so that it could not be undone. "Was that your final answer?"

"Yes. It is my Kingdom. I will not give it up," Amarild declared.

Jareth half-turned to an unnoticed figure behind them. "Prince Armand," he called smoothly, "You have witnessed this?"

Amarild gasped as she faced her brother's stony face, the crimson streaks of their house glimmering in the sunlight on his head. His brown eyes were cold and distant. "You cannot," she screamed, feeling herself dragged towards the edge of the parapet by Jareth's strong hand.

"You had a choice," Jareth pointed out, "You chose death on capture."

"They will know," Amarild babbled, dignity breaking as she was lifted up and held over the edge in the Goblin King's arms. "Armand, they will know you conspired for my demise. There will be an uprising. And Jareth has no legal cause to kill me. The war is over; peace is declared. He cannot kill me!"

Jareth smirked. "I can kill you, my sweet Queen. I am the Goblin King." Sure enough, the medallion glittered on his chest, just as it had always done since the day of his coronation until the day he had given it to his consort in his stead. "The entirety of your Kingdom and mine is watching this trial, Amarild. This way is much better than a beheading, do you not think? That is usually preceded by torture and my sword is rusty. You will die quicker with this."

"Armard, please! I am your sister!"

The Fae Prince looked uncomfortable and rather sad, but at Jareth's sharp look he shook his chestnut head at his sister and sighed, "Family must be denied when duty demands it."

Jareth let go and Amarild's bound body dropped.


	20. The Past

There was so much to do, Toby fretted, he couldn't afford to lie in bed while the entire Castle had to be put to rights again. "Jareth, I need to get out of this bed," he snapped, looking angrily at the male who was standing beside him with his arms crossed and a determined look on his face.

"Really. And how much help will you be when the child inside you dies?"

"It won't die! I keep telling you- everything is fine."

Jareth snorted and Toby drew back from that insanely furious look in the dual-coloured eyes. "Do not lie to me, mortal," the Goblin King hissed, "I felt it. There is something wrong and you will lie still in that bed and rest until the ninth month produces the child."

"But there's things to be done..."

"Which I have handled before and will handle again."

Toby considered that statement. A rest would be nice and Jareth was very capable, but there were some things that he couldn't do, things over which Toby had been worrying over for seven years. "Jareth, I have to contact my parents," he pointed out, "And Sarah. They're all going to be so worried about me. It's been seven years for them too, you know."

The Goblin King rubbed at his tired eyes and sighed into his gloved hands. He didn't want to think of these things, he didn't care. Why could no one see that he didn't care any more? He simply wanted to slip back into some kind of schedule and put all this behind him. But no, he had to go and speak to the last people in both the worlds that he least wanted to see. "I will find them," he groaned, "And I will tell them that you are safe. Now rest!"

"Jareth, I could just go to the Underground..."

"No!" The shout was so loud that Toby fell over backwards in shock, staring at Jareth in bewildered surprise as he unthinkingly pulled the blankets up for some kind of protection. Jareth looked instantly contrite but the harsh command in his voice never wavered- "You are not fit state to go anywhere, especially now you are with child. The toll that apparition takes on the body will likely cause an instant miscarriage."

"Jareth, I'll keep the child safe," Toby protested, "I won't go to the Aboveground, but you can't just hold me captive in bed for five months. I'll go mad!"

A white hand rested warningly on his already swelling stomach. "That is mine," Jareth said softly, "That child in there is mine. If you harm it... so help me, I will not hesitate to show you just how angry I will be."

Blue eyes grew huge and Jareth was wondering why he wanted them like that. Toby had done nothing to merit this. The pregnancy was a difficult one, yes, but nothing that a good healer could not handle. If only Arienne could be found. He missed his healer and desperately needed advice. And Toby looked so sad.

Jareth hardened his heart. Well, let him, he decided viciously, this was what he wanted out of life? Then let him feel the sadness. He could have never intruded into Archer's palace. Jareth would have stayed happily enough without his memories, without feeling like every person who looked at him saw him on his knees with his hands tied behind his back. And loving it, oh God, but Archer had known he would find it so wonderful.

"Excuse me," he muttered, stiffly making for the door, "Stay there until I return."

Toby said nothing. Jareth figured that the mortal probably thought his life was not worth much any more to the Goblin King and the truth was that he was correct. Life was not worth much; life never could be.

Jareth was so very tired by all of this and all he wanted was to find a dark room and curl up in bed for days, occasionally playing with more black magic just to feel that glorious power again. After the powerlessness of his past, it gave him such a rush. Only he couldn't. Because he knew what he'd find if he shut himself in a dark room- Archer would come to him, slipping through the fevered channels of an overworked mind and touch him. Hard, callused hands with tender gentleness. Archer had wanted him so badly and even the memory of the nights he had been made love to sent hot and cold shudders racing through his body.

A step out of a window and the satisfying feeling of falling.

The grass of his gardens rushed up to meet him and he briefly considered not taking his bird form. His neck would likely snap and he would die- a quick, final end to all of this. Toby would not mourn, not after his threat to beat him if he miscarried.

Two goblin gardeners watched with their hearts in their mouths as the Goblin King changed into an eagle and took off back into the sky, flying away without a sound. It was too bright to be an owl. Still, he hadn't been an eagle for a very long time. They went back to the raking.

The breaching of the barrier between the worlds: Jareth felt the quiver in his wingtips as he circled lazily over the Williams' house. He could land and talk to them, or he could simply leave a message and let Toby talk to them. He landed behind the house and transformed, walking around to the front door to knock politely.

A vision opened the door, a five-year-old child clutching her hand.

"Sarah?"

"Jareth! Oh God, Jareth, we've been so worried." The woman flung her arms around his neck and screamed in his ear, the confused little boy summarily released. Jareth watched him cling to Sarah's skirt instead.

"Sarah?" He couldn't get past that; not this mature, matronly woman with the apron tied around her and her dark hair cut severely to shoulder length.

"Yes!" she grinned, jumping up and down a little, "Is it really you? Where's Toby? Is he all right? We were so worried. Archer told us about the war and we... are you okay?"

Jareth found he had taken a large step back and had gone far too pale for comfort, a gloved hand pressed to his neck where the collar had once been. "Archer was here?" he asked breathlessly, "What did he want?"

"To ask about Toby," Sarah replied, puzzled, "He said you had disappeared and that Amarild would kill Toby and Arradine if she caught them. He wanted to get to them first so that he could make arrangements for them. He said you wouldn't surrender in that war you were losing."

"Wouldn't surrender," Jareth repeated, dazed. Archer had been here? Archer had stood here before these people and blatantly lied? Somehow that sounded worse than the lies he had been subjected to.

Sarah took his arm in a tentatively gentle grip, tugging him into the house and towards the kitchen. "Come with me," she coaxed, "You need to sit down and drink some water. You don't look good, Jareth. What happened?"

"I am fine," he attempted, but his body felt so cold. So terrifying cold.

Sarah yelped in shock as his fingers closed over hers. "What the hell happened? Your hands are freezing! They're like blocks of ice."

"Ice?" Staring at his hands and just why was he repeating everything in such a ridiculously weak-brained way? His mind was not this dense! But the thoughts were becoming so hard to concentrate on and his mind kept wandering around in circles. "They... are not supposed to be." Was this a side effect of the black magic? It could not be because he had researched this and a drop in body temperature was not a symptom of that.

Sarah sat him down and hurriedly got him a glass of juice. "Try that," she insisted, "And I'll get you some chocolate."

"Mom, can I have chocate, too?" the child piped up, looking very excited by the prospect even though the strange man was staring at him with those scary eyes and his mother was too distracted to do more than impatiently shake her head.

Jareth smiled a little at the mispronunciation of the word 'chocolate'. Children were always doing that, it seemed. Aidan had already managed to massacre the word 'labyrinth'. It was mortifying! But rather sweet. "Hello," he said gently, pulling his mind back into its usual efficiency, "What's your name?"

The child sidled away from him and didn't answer. Well, that was to be expected too. Jareth had more than enough experience with children, having had to care for the Wished-aways. The thought almost brought back the anger, but he pushed it away and concentrated.

Sarah put a bar of chocolate down next to him and rushed to get whatever was burning on the stove off it. Jareth took the moment to break off a small piece and hold it out silently with a smile and wink. The little boy giggled and snatched it up, grinning with his smile so like Sarah's. He crammed it into his mouth and Jareth had one heartfelt moment for the pristine t-shirt that got chocolate-covered fingers wiped on it.

"Jareth! Did you give him chocolate?"

The Goblin King plastered the most innocent look on his face.

Sarah looked from one to the other. "Really," she commented dryly, "From the looks on your faces, heaven seems to be missing two angels. Don't you dare deny anything, Goblin King; his shirt has chocolate on it."

Jareth smirked and shrugged. "He seems a friendly little fellow," he teased, "What is your name?"

The child looked for his mother's permission and then grinned again. "Harvey," he supplied.

"Well, Harvey, it is nice to meet you." The half-goblin gravely held out his right hand, which was promptly shaken by someone who was very interested in his feathered cape and proceeded to pull a handful of feathers out and examine them. The sound of a wail interrupted what promised to be an entertaining scene.

"Oh no! Jareth, keep Harvey here, will you? Cassie's just woken up. Which means Susan will too. God, why did I offer to let Susan spend the day here?"

"My sister," Harvey supplied airily, "She was sleeping."

"I see. And who is Susan?"

"Cassie's friend," Harvey informed him, looking like it was common knowledge and should have been known without the asking. "Mom said she could stay here today."

Jareth sighed as Sarah came in looking frazzled, two whiney little girls clinging to her. One was evidently Sarah's offspring. She was the exact feminine double of Harvey, with Ben's cheerful face and eyes that were a bit of a mixture between both Sarah and Ben- a kind of hazel. He kindly took them over and soothed them down as Sarah tried to get something together to keep them occupied.

Finally supplying all three five-year-olds with a banana each, she took Jareth away to the drawing room and sat him down on the couch, popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth just to be sure he wouldn't give out on her and ordering him to give her the information.

"Toby's rapist was a fairy..." seemed a good place to start. Jareth found it was easier to tell Sarah what happened than Toby. Try as the mortal male did, Toby would always judged him. Sarah did too, but then Jareth didn't care for her judgements. They made no impact on his life. "...Archer betrayed us all. He was killed and it has only been a day since I have managed to wrest my Kingdom back."

Sarah shook her dark head and told him to hold on. She picked up a box of colour pencils and a sheaf of papers and disappeared into the kitchen with them. Having provided more occupation for them, she came back and sat down again:

"So there was a war, Archer captured you when you fell ill due to being pregnant, Toby and Arradine fled to the elves for protection, you lost your memories, seven years passed, Toby came to find you, you got your memories back, the two of you fought Archer and won, Archer was killed, the entire palace was killed and burned down, Amarild was killed, her brother now takes the throne and you and Toby have another fine mess on your hands. Did I miss something?"

"Not everything was quite so terrible as you seem to think it, Sarah," Jareth grinned. It was a lie and if Sarah had known him well enough she would have seen it. There was plenty that he hadn't told her. He hadn't mentioned the enslavement, or Toby's supposedly secret affair with Gwenél, or that Toby was pregnant again.

"Aidan?" she asked, smiling as the half-goblin tried and failed to look nonchalant at the mention of that name. "I get you. You know, when I had the twins, I had some condition that might have resulted in my death? Anyway, that last month was the most horrible one in my entire life. But then the twins were born and everything just... vanished. I didn't care any more about the pain or anything. It just stopped being an issue."

Jareth smiled at the sparkle in those green eyes. He didn't need Sarah to tell him she was happy; it was so obvious that she might just as well have painted it in neon on her forehead. He understood the feeling too. He would submit to every single torture ten times for the sake of his son and daughter. Arradine and Aidan were the world to him. But unlike Sarah, he took no pleasure from that feeling. It was a fear of the worst kind.

Fear... he glanced down at his hands again but they seemed normal once more. Why had they gone cold? He dismissed it as a side effect of far too much magic and too much loss of energy.

"You know, Archer gave us a mirror so we could contact him," Sarah said suddenly, "We used to talk to him every month for a few years until Dad stopped hoping and Karen started drinking."

"Karen has taken to alcohol?"

Sarah nodded sadly. "Every evening. Toby's her only child and she couldn't have any more after him. He's always been a loner, unlike her when she was a teenager, so she feels extra-protective of him. Then to know he might be killed or harmed? Dad and Karen have only met Arradine once, but she was the first grandchild. At first it was only on the worst evenings. Then every evening and so on and so forth. It doesn't take much, but Dad stopped using the mirror when he saw how much it hurt Karen."

"This mirror- may I see it?"

"Sure. It's right here in case Archer ever tries to talk to us." Sarah pulled it out and handed it over, noticing sharply that Jareth looked faint once more as he held the offensive object in his hand. "Jareth, you've gone pale again."

Jareth put the mirror somewhere in a pocket and stood up, ignoring her. "Toby is safe," he said briskly, offering her a crystal to see for herself, "I promise you of that. Unfortunately he is tired and unable to leave the Castle at present. I propose to take all of you down to see him. He misses you. And the children should meet the only family they have left."

"I... we would love to. This weekend okay? Oh, and can I keep the crystal? Karen and Dad will want to know for sure he's all right."

"If I may keep the mirror," Jareth bargained, a peculiar light in his eyes. Sarah nodded, not quite sure she was doing the right thing but unable to say anything else. "Speak through the crystal and Toby will hear you. Now excuse me, I have work that awaits me."

Without another word he left, a swirling sprinkle of glitter catching in the carpet as he apparated away, the ornate hand-mirror clutched tight somewhere in his cape. Sarah sat down and absently wondered whether Jareth was really quite as fine as he looked. Sure there were no scars or marks, but something in those eyes... Toby would know. She looked down to the crystal and made a mental note to speak with her little brother again when he woke up.

At that exact moment, there were three little mice to be kept occupied and some kind of meal to be made.

But duly the days progressed. Karen finally burst into tears when Sarah handed her the crystal and Harold was still not sure that it wasn't all 'that bastard's' fault for taking his son away in the first place. The two were stunned and a little reluctant to hear that Jareth had himself given birth to a child, a little boy named Aidan who was still trying to get used to the fact that he was part goblin, never mind half mortal.

Sarah calmed them down and explained things as best she understood them. Ben was surprisingly silent all through it, his eyes fixed on the crystal where Toby was obviously playing with two children as they swarmed all over his bed. He had his doubts about the optimism that his wife indulged in, but then that was just because he was a born pessimist.

Jareth took them all Underground on the weekend, Harvey and Cassandra included, where he retreated to the other side of the room while the family reunited with many a hug and squeal of joy. Toby was so ecstatic and the sight was like the torture with needles again, twisting down into all those points of absolute pain. But he told himself he could grudge his husband that happiness. He was still telling himself that when he suffered himself to be proclaimed King again.

Gringol looked far too old as he stood once more on the little platform. Toby looked tired and somewhat weak. Jareth was the only one there who looked as if the last seven years hadn't even happened. Tall, dressed in his usual mix of fluttery, feathery clothes, proud, arrogant, coolly dismissive of everyone else- no, Jareth didn't seem to have changed much from that other version of himself.

Karen stood very close to her son, a hand on his arm as if afraid he would vanish again if she stopped touching him. Sarah was similarly afflicted, but she was currently forced to let go of him as her twins were much too excited by what was going on to leave them alone. Toby sighed as Harvey tried to induce Aidan to play catch with him. Those twins!

Jareth shot the two boys a disapproving look and they quietened under his sharp eye, looking the very picture of cowed innocence.

"And do you accept this position as the King of your people?"

"Yes."

Gringol nodded and placed the medallion back around the half-goblin's neck. He sighed when he could finally get off the high stool he'd been standing on. "Congratulations, Your Majesty," he smiled, "We are glad to have you back."

Jareth lifted his eyes from the heirloom he was examining and directed a rather peculiar look to the old goblin. "Thank you," he murmured, offering a small bow, "It is always pleasant to be liked. Perhaps this time there will be less talk of dissent?" He turned away and strode for the doors before Gringol could say a word more.

Toby blushed and stammered some thanks to the perturbed nobleman, assuring him that he had said nothing wrong. "It's just been such a crazy time," Toby explained, "Jareth's just on edge because of what happened to the Labyrinth."

Which was mostly true, he mused, walking determinedly after his husband, except for where Jareth had thrown an enormous hissy fit over having to be proclaimed King again.

"I am the fucking King," he'd shrieked- the first time he'd ever sounded Aboveground to Toby- "I don't need someone to fucking tell me that! My people know who I am! What the hell are those wankers on about?"

Toby had just sat there on the bed and stared at him, mouth hanging open as Jareth had trashed the place with his bare hands and thrown a petulant temper-tantrum in the voice of an adult.

And now... Toby stopped and sighed tiredly as he watched Jareth stand at one of the windows and gaze sightlessly out over his ruined Labyrinth. He walked carefully to the window beside it and pretended not to notice when his husband stiffened and almost sidled away.

"It's a beautiful day," the mortal commented.

"Yes, it is," the Goblin King agreed, composing himself with a blank mask for a face, "And how clearly the sun shines on the mess Amarild left."

Toby winced.

"You still prefer not to think of it, my elf?" How could he manage to sound so harsh? So unforgiving? Why did he acting as if Toby was the enemy? "She chose death, Toby. She was a Queen. The Underground is no happy place with talking flowers and singing wood nymphs. Even the elves are not generally as gentle-minded as you humans might like."

Elves? "I never said they were, Jareth. You know, you were really rude to Gringol in there. He's a little upset."

Jareth turned to level a cold, incredulous gaze at his bond mate. But the mobile little face never turned to him, the blue eyes continuing to look out to the Kingdom and the golden hair cropped in a short cut around his face. It didn't smell of oranges any more. It smelt of some kind of berry, he wasn't sure what. Toby's hands were hard now, the palms callused and rough and the fingers thick-skinned from working with the elves. Yes, those elves. Jareth hated them with everything in his being. Detested them all.

"Do you presume to tell me how to treat my nobles? You? A mortal?" he sniffed derisively and turned away, making for the end of the long passage.

Toby's head snapped up, cheeks reddening under the slur cast against him. And for Jareth of all people to say that, after everything that had happened! "Stop right there," he shouted, finally losing his temper, "Stop and listen, buster."

Jareth blinked distastefully down at the hand on his arm but suffered it with a raised eyebrow and a slightly bored look of enquiry.

"I don't what the hell has crawled up your ass and died, but you will stop- and I repeat stop- behaving like such a prick! Just because I'm from the Aboveground, doesn't mean I'm an ill-bred cretin who doesn't know how to treat people. And for your information, you've managed to alienate everyone who was really happy to see you back here. Arienne is dead..." Jareth flinched, "... Arienne is dead, but he would be ashamed to see you behave like this."

"Arienne was not my keeper. Nor was he my father."

"Maybe if he was, you'd have been better behaved."

The blow took him by surprise. If it hadn't been for Jareth's immediate sense of guilt, Toby might have actually fallen. The only thing that saved him was being pulled in hard against Jareth's chest, Jareth's arms wrapped tight around him as they both regained their balance.

"I'm sorry," the Goblin King was whispering, stroking his hair, his back, his shoulders, his hand so worried and trembling slightly, "Forgive me, my elf, I did not mean to hit you. I am sorry."

"You meant it," Toby bit out, resting an aching head against that comforting shoulder, "Why, Jareth? Was it the insult to your father? To Arienne? What got you so angry that you would want to hit and then carry it out?"

"Nothing..."

"Your father. There's something there, Jareth, and I want to know what. And Archer mentioned another consort. You never told me you'd been married before. Who was it? Archer said 'him', so it must have been a guy. But you said we were the first males to marry; you said this had never happened before. Tell me what's going, my love; I just want to help you."

Which, predictably enough, only brought a look of blank dismay into the Goblin King's eyes and resulted in him pulling as far away as a narrow passage could allow. "There is nothing to know," he said hurriedly, "Archer was lying. We are the first. There were none before us."

He was already walking away when Toby tried desperately to get him to answer, trying to bait him with theories- "Did your father make you marry someone who hurt you? Was that it? And that first night hurt you, didn't it? Jareth, please! Just tell me! For the sake of our child, please let me help."

A slight hesitation in the confident steps and then Jareth continued away. "It is in the past. Leave it there."


	21. Exile

Author's Note: Sorry that this is such a long chapter, but I have an announcement: this is the last chapter of this fic! Yes, 'Time without Dawns or Dusks' is over and here is the end. There will be a sequel, however, which should be up sometime soon.

Author's Note 2: Thanks again to my reviewers, who have been so beautifully encouraging even when my writing's not been as good as it should have been. I hope you like this chapter and I hope you'll like where I'm taking this next. It's sad that we've lost a few people, but so terribly exciting that we've gained a few. I hope these 'newbies' will follow onto the next one too.

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Toby was waiting in the sitting room outside his bedroom, trying to stay calm while he waited for Jareth to return with his new healer. It had been sad to hear about Arienne's demise. Jareth hadn't said anything after they'd found out, but it didn't need genius to know that Arienne had been close to him.

The door opened and Jareth walked in, calm and cool, a curious smirk on his face.

It was the smirk that had become rather infuriating lately. "Where's my healer and what did you do to him?" Toby asked, suspiciously.

The Goblin King raised an amused eyebrow. "I?" he gasped, looking perfectly innocent, "I have done nothing. Hoggle is showing your healer the wild herbs that may be found in my gardens. Do not be so impatient."

"I am not impatient," Toby snapped, rising to his feet and walking towards Jareth with clear intent, "I simply do not trust you in this mood. You're laughing at something at my expense. What is it?"

A gloved hand flicked his cheek and then withdrew. "Nothing at all, my elf. Nothing at all." The sound of footsteps outside their door and then a polite knock sounded on the door. "Ah! I believe this is the new healer."

Toby gave him one last shrewd look and went to open it. His smile faltered slightly as his eyes fell on the personage standing calmly outside his door. "E- excuse me?"

"Lord Toby?" the dwarf asked, dropping a curtsey, "I thought you would be laying down, my Lord. His Majesty don't have no sense to be letting you wander around in that condition."

Toby blinked and found himself being pushed gently passed a very smug Jareth and towards the bedroom. He blanched as he realized what was about to happen. And in his bedroom! "Uh, wait a minute," he called, digging in his heels and effectively stopping the purposeful progress of his determined healer, "I- I need to discuss a few things with- with His Majesty. If you could just give me a few minutes..."

The dwarf woman nodded, bowed and disappeared with her bag into the bedroom, walking in as if it were not the shared bedchamber of the Goblin King and his consort. She might just as well have been asked to take a seat at the dining table of a close friend for all the concern or tact she showed. Toby stared after her with large blue eyes before turning back to look at Jareth.

The Goblin King was leaning weakly against the wall, a hand over his mouth and his shoulders heaving slightly as he swallowed down his laughter.

Toby glared at him for a few minutes and then shut the bedroom door, grabbing Jareth and yanking him out of their suite to talk to him. "My new healer is a dwarf?" he asked, looking dubiously from the shut door to his husband.

Jareth shrugged. "As you so eloquently reminded me, Arienne is dead. This birth is even more irregular than the last one. You need a healer."

"But it's a female," Toby hissed, "I have to expose myself to a female?"

Jareth compressed his lips. He wasn't going to say it; he really wasn't. "You seemed to have no such problems with Gwenél." There, he had said it.

"Oh." Toby was a bit taken-aback. Not to mention ashamed and horrified. How did Jareth ever find out about that? He hadn't told him. And he had certainly not let the Goblin King long enough into his mind to find out from his thoughts. "I- I don't know..."

"What to say," Jareth completed dryly, "It is to be expect. But that is not the point. You are in need of a healer. This female dwarf is a healer, and a skilled one at that. Lorelei will take good care of you."

"I get what you're trying to do. You're trying to guilt me out, aren't you," Toby murmured, beginning to circle the half-goblin as his shocked nerves turned to anger in those disturbingly fluid mood changes, "You're angry because I slept with Gwenél so you want to punish me. Is that it? Oh, come off it, Jareth, stop looking so bloody outraged! You might as well push me off the top of the bloody Castle too. You and your ego; always need revenge, don't you? That's all this is about! Revenge!"

Jareth went white and then clenched his fists carefully by his side. He wasn't going to lose his temper again. It was far too draining to lose his temper. He didn't have the energy for it. "Lorelei was recommended to me as being the most talented healer for the job," he said quietly, "She has handled a male pregnancy before and she knows what to do. That is why I hired her."

"Really?" Toby's voice was getting dangerously close to hysterical. "I want a male, Jareth. Not female; male! Get me a male or I will not have this child!"

"It's a little late now for that," Jareth bit out, "Might I remind you, you were the one who initiated the child's conception."

"Oh, shut up! You were the one happily groaning because your dick was inside me," Toby howled, "It's all your fault and I want a male healer! I want a male healer and I want one now! She could be the bloody Queen of Sheba for all I care, but I will not take my trousers off to a female!"

Jareth grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard until the hysteria dropped from him. "Stop it," he demanded, "Stop it right now, you spoilt little brat."

"Or what? You'll hit me again? Throw me off the roof? Stick a knife in me?"

"No, but I will put you over my knee and spank you," Jareth snarled. "For the love of all that is pure, you are behaving like that ill-bred cretin you told me you weren't! Now get in there and let her examine you."

The golden head shook in emphatic denial. "No!"

"Toby, I will tie you to the bed myself if I have to."

"Then you'll be as bad as Archer." The words had just left his mouth when Toby realized what he'd said. His arms were let go and he clapped his hands to his mouth, too late to stifle the hurtful words that had tripped off his tongue. Jareth's eyes had that veiled, cold look again. "I- I'm sorry. You're nothing like him. Don't look like that; I didn't mean it, honest!"

Jareth nodded slowly, a finger tapping his pursed lips. When he spoke, his voice was strained- "For the sake of argument, let us say that somehow I managed to engineer the amazing revenge of having a female healer attend you. Why would I do so?"

Toby stared down brokenly at his boots, hands clasped demurely in front. "To get back at me for Gwenél," he whispered, cringing at his own presumption. To even think that he merited that kind of possessiveness was ludicrous. After what he had done, how could Jareth care enough to be bothered by that?

A hand took careful hold of his chin and forced it to rise, forcing his face up to the clear view of a pair of cold mismatched eyes. Toby gulped fearfully.

"You betrayed me," Jareth reminded him, "You dared to think that I would do something as despicable as abandon my family and my Kingdom. You dared to presume such a thing without trying to find out the truth. You are my bond mate; you are supposed to know me, understand me... you don't even understand yourself, my elf. You're nothing but a spoilt, wilful, passionate child. And yes, that makes me angry."

"Jareth, I'm sorry."

"What was it like, Toby? You've never had a woman before and Gwenél is beautiful. What was it like? Did she let you put her on her back and control her, did she respond gracefully to your every command? She did everything you ever wanted me to do, isn't it?" Pale, bloodless lips brushed the curve of a pale-honey ear. "Do you even realize that you used her just as surely as you used me that night in the forest?"

Toby whimpered and pulled away, squirming as those merciless fingers dug into his arms. But the fire directed at him was cooled almost instantly when Jareth let go, looking at him with a blank, angry stare. A silent gesture to the door of their suite and Toby went obediently.

Jareth accompanied him and stayed with him when Lorelei prattled on about the precautions she wanted him to take and examined him, running her hands over his abdomen with a surprisingly delicate touch.

Lorelei's knowing blue eyes noticed that the mortal answered only in monosyllables and that the Goblin King's voice was anything but eager and anticipatory. He seemed almost to be treating it as another chore to be completed, another mess to be sorted out and put right. She never mentioned it, but prattled on regardless, trying to get her patient to talk to her.

Eventually she left, leaving a strengthening tea that she wanted Toby to drink every morning and with the promise to Jareth that she would return the next week. Once outside, she sighed with relief and went to find Hoggle. At least there was a dwarf who wasn't as crazy as all the goblins and mortals running around the Castle.

Toby yanked his shirt back on, more than a little morbidly depressed by Jareth's reaction. He wanted to talk to him, but it hurt so much. Yes, he had used Gwenél but Jareth made it sound like something wrong and misleading. Toby had never misled the elf on what he was doing in her bed; he'd never promised her love or any kind of a relationship. Didn't Jareth know that it was only for some form of comfort on the nights that he missed him?

"I only missed you," he ventured, "That's why it happened."

Jareth looked at him and shrugged. Toby was still sitting there, an overlarge shirt on his small frame, the neck open to reveal the flat lines of hard ribs and chest. It was a tempting picture. All he needed to do was push Toby back and cover him with his body and nature would take its course. Or he would take his own course, letting nature have a say in what he eventually decided to do.

"However it happened," he shrugged, "I believe it should be kept in the past."

He left before Toby could say anything else, walking out and shutting the door casually behind him. Toby contemplating throwing something but since Jareth wasn't there to play target, missile-hurling was not quite so tempting. He crawled into bed and shut his eyes, determined that he would find peace somewhere from the hammering thoughts in his brain. He refused to even notice the tears that leaked from the corners of his eyes.

The silence between them had been growing to an ominous, tactile thing for many days. Well, months almost, too. They sat at the same table and found nothing to say to each other. They slept in the same bed and didn't touch. Their schedules never met in any way and they rarely saw each other from one day to the next.

In many ways, Toby couldn't blame Jareth for that. The Goblin King was far too busy with the reconstruction of his Labyrinth. He spent hours out in the ruins, trying to determine what stones went where, organizing the resetting in a surprisingly calm manner. Any spare moment he had, was used in his library or art rooms, sketching out detailed plans or researching the many ways in which the magicks had been altered.

That night was no exception. The Goblin King had been charm incarnate to his guests- who had asked to stay for a few days more to reacquaint themselves with Toby- and had seemed too much like his old self.

Sarah had sat back and watched, conscious of something being wrong with the cosy scene. The children had already been sent to bed and if Sarah wasn't mistaken, her two little terrors were already inducing poor sweet Aidan to participate in an obstacle race around their rooms- a point to note because in the absence of his children, Jareth was often the least charming person around. It was almost as if he lavished all the best feelings and emotions on them, draining himself until there were none left for anyone else. And that 'anyone else' seemed to include her brother.

Toby had sat all through dinner, a somewhat hopeless look around the eyes. Karen would no doubt say that she was overreacting, that Toby was obviously only tired what with his recent exertions and the pregnancy. But still, Sarah didn't consider that tiredness accounted for a complete breakdown of hope.

Had she asked, of course, Toby might have told her the truth. He was confused enough as it was and Ben had apologetically not been much help. The situations for them were too different. So the fire-blond could only sigh and hope that whatever was boiling in the tension around them would finally come to a head. He couldn't take much longer without knowing.

"I told mom and dad," Toby commented, watching from the armchair as Jareth poured over the books in the library late that night. "Sarah was right; they don't care any more than I can get pregnant. They were actually quite happy for us."

Jareth said nothing, continuing immersed in his own personal world. The plain hide-bound book held more frightening news than just that of a male pregnancy. He had been surreptitiously reading the book for days now and it was becoming apparent what was happening to him.

"Jareth, are you even listening to me?"

He looked up and shook his head. "I am trying very hard not to. Quiet, please. I am trying to work." The book was becoming ever more interesting.

Toby scowled and kicked at the floor, shivering slightly in the cheerless room. "This place is like a tomb, Jareth."

"Then I suppose you have heard that old saying- as silence as...? Perhaps we should practise that."

Toby couldn't believe his ears. He was trying to talk and he was trying to share something... he actually didn't know what he was trying to do any more. It sure as hell wasn't anything to do with becoming the target for Jareth's sharp tongue! For God's sake, he didn't deserve this kind of scorn!

He sat up in the chair and stifled his anger as best he could, so serious that the frustration and hysteria were not even an option any more. He was tired and he was heartsick and he wanted an answer immediately. "Put that book down, Goblin King. We have a few things to discuss."

_'... symptoms eventually combine to result in permanent coldness of the body... the energy will be sapped slowly to fuel the life that is stifled and the body will begin to age... death in the final stage.'_

An interesting chapter, Jareth sighed. He slid the bookmark between the pages and snapped the book shut. "What will we discuss now," he snarked moodily, "Are we painting the nursery a new colour?"

Toby flushed and stiffened. "I would appreciate not being sniped at," he warned quietly, "I may not be as powerful as you but I think I may give you a fair fight if it comes down to it. Jareth, what is going on? I know you hurt and I know you're dealing with pain I can't even imagine but there's something more. You haven't spoken a civil word to me in weeks."

Jareth just sat there on the window ledge, framed by the night sky, a figure in black with white skin and ancient eyes. There were many things he could say to that. He could evade the topic altogether. He could apologize, as Toby deserved. Or he could actually protect the mortal and himself. "You have not merited the civility." Protection, then?

"Oh?" A dark blond brow arched even more precariously, blue eyes beginning to glitter with the ice of a cold rage. "And what have I done that was so awful?"

"You have betrayed me," Jareth said simply, watching closely from under half-closed lids, "in yourself, with Gwenél, and with the child."

"Explain that."

"You believed me capable of running away. You, who know me- did you think I have no honour?"

"You very frequently don't!"

"If that were true, I would not have called the war in order to capture your rapist. That I did not know Archer was the one is another matter. I tried to protect you."

Toby nodded slowly. He plucked a crystal out of the air and changed it to a sheet of thick parchment, eyes flicking down the written scrawls until he came to what he wanted. "Right here- 'an abomination can only spawn abominable offspring'. Did you truly believe I never heard you from my bed, Jareth? I was asleep and I dreamed it! I saw you read this letter; I felt your rage overpower you with this one phrase. Don't lie to me about defending my honour."

"If you think it a lie then what more is there to tell you?" Jareth asked, hands out in a casual gesture, "You will always believe what you will."

"What I believe, however, is determined by you. If you could bring yourself to come off that lonely mountain you've hidden yourself on, we could try to sort things out. Jareth, do you realize how much you've pushed me away since I've found you? It's rather frustrating to know that the last time we shared a pleasant memory was that night over seven years ago, before you left. We've been together for months now and I just... I understand if you can't handle physical closeness, but at least talk to me."

"Very well then. Let us speak of a topic of great interest to me. While I was being abused and raped, you were enjoying yourself in the arms of a very beauteous elf maiden. Do the scales seem imbalanced to you?"

"Jareth, I wasn't with Gwenél because I wanted a good time."

"I see. It was a furthering of education, I suppose."

The slick comeback might have been funny at any other moment. Unfortunately, this moment was not one of them. "Yes, and no. Yes, I have never actually had sex with a female before Gwenél and the experience was one that roused my curiosity. And no, because I never loved Gwenél; it was never about love, and both of us accepted that it was only comfort and a means of release. That was all."

"A very tidy explanation," Jareth yawned, "How many days have you spent planning it out?" He knew the anger was building behind that composed façade. He needed Toby to explode. He wanted to see him angry and passionate. Alas, this was all the passion he could now allow himself; at least where his bond mate was concerned. Strange that he should eventually end up trying to keep his distance from Toby.

"Shut up!" Aha! There was the passion Jareth knew so well. "I never loved her! You want to know what it was? She was a body that kept me warm at night. I was attracted to her, yes; I wanted her. By the end of five years of sleeping alone, I was willing to throw her against the nearest wall and take her whether she agreed or not. But you! I only had to see you once more, and I was hooked, drugged, addicted- all over again. I only had to see you and I didn't care whether the world around me existed just so I could touch you. Don't blame me for the child inside me; we both wanted it."

Jareth began to wonder just how far he could push the mortal before he eventually got what he needed. "I beg to differ. My opinion was never asked."

Toby was out of his chair and on his knees before Jareth, anguish written clearly on his face, his hands wrung together in his lap. "Because you couldn't think straight! And neither could I! You spent seven years within any control of what happened to you. You were confused, but your body enjoyed it, Jareth, even if your mind didn't. I was raped three times by someone I trusted. I needed to feel in control. It was something we both needed and I'm sorry if you wanted me to stop and I didn't hear you, but I needed it. For once, could you forgive me for needing something?"

A hand reached down and brushed through his blond hair. "I could forgive a lot of things," Jareth whispered, "I don't care what you needed. Perhaps that night was not entirely your fault- we will always think differently on that. But Gwenél? I cannot and will not forgive that. You are mine. That child is mine. And you will understand that I do not share what is mine."

"I am a person, not an object. You cannot possess the children or me. It's not something you can do."

Sharp glint of sharp teeth in a sharp smile- "I can and will. You will go nowhere without first telling me. Beyond the gardens or the Goblin City is forbidden to you and the children. The Labyrinth too is a place you will never visit."

Toby was staring at him with his mouth open, unable to believe what he was hearing. Staring at him in horrified fascination.

"You will attend public functions only if I specifically invite you to one or all of them. If you do not receive that invitation, you do not show your face."

"That's not possession, Jareth; that's capture," Toby whispered, sitting back on his heels when his knees threatened to give out on the hard floor. The blood was pounding in his veins and still Jareth's pretty mouth was moving, locking him closer and closer into the hidden depths of the palace until he didn't know if he was going to be allowed to set foot outside his room.

"... but I am not entirely heartless," Jareth interrupted, a cool hand cupping his cheek, "You may choose a companion. A male companion! I do not think we will see each other very much and your mind must be kept stimulated."

"I don't... Jareth, what are you going on about? You can't seriously mean this."

"Do not mistake just how serious I am. You are mine and I will dispose of you as I wish."

Shades of Archer and broad streaks of sadism. Was that the life he was going to lead down here? One look in those curiously deadly eyes and Toby's heart sank. Jareth was serious. He would do those things without a second thought. "What will you do if I refuse?"

The Goblin King got to his feet and actually looked amused as he walked elegantly around the still-kneeling figure. "Do not look so scared, my child. I will not beat you. I shall hardly see you as it is. But do not mistake the matter, if I find you trying to escape me, I will follow you and I will bring you back. After which I will only lock you in your room. The more you resist, the closer I will bind you."

"Jareth, I..." Toby licked his lips as he got shakily to his feet. He couldn't believe he was about to say this. "I can't do this. I can't be that thing that you keep locked in a cupboard. This won't work and I'm so sorry. But if you keep going with these ridiculous plans to play 'Master', then I'm leaving to go back Aboveground as soon as the baby is born."

The crystal glass dropped from nerveless fingers and shattered at Jareth's feet. Clearly he was startled, for he had gone pale and almost stumbled, one hand at his throat and the other clutching the table for support.

Toby stood a little straighter, as if forcing himself to confront the situation. "After the baby is born," he laid a careful hand on his midsection, "I'll stay for six months while she's an infant and then I will leave. I- I know the other kids are your heirs and I will leave them here. They're both immortals and your blood flows too strongly through them to let them live comfortably in the Aboveground. But this one- she isn't immortal. She's mortal, like me. I'll take her with me. You obviously don't want me, Jareth; you're just going to keep me somewhere dark where you don't have to see me."

"No..." Didn't he understand, Jareth mourned, how could someone so bright not see what he was really trying to do?

"Yes, Jareth. I'm not staying to be locked in an Ivory Tower. That wasn't what you promised me. If you insist, I'll even leave the baby with you to care for until she's old enough for my world."

Jareth felt his blood begin to freeze.

"But I am leaving just as soon as I can."

Gods, it was so cold! How had no one told him how cold it was? "Listen to me, Toby- you are going nowhere." Jareth was in front of him without even moving his feet. "All of you belongs to me, do you hear? And I will have it. You cannot go Aboveground ever again. If you do, I will find you and I will chain you to me. That collar I wore is easily duplicated, Toby. I will have no hesitation in cutting off your magic."

Toby was almost falling over in fear. What exactly had he got himself into? Was this monster really his husband? But Jareth wasn't being a monster; he looked angry and urgent and... scared? Why was he scared? No, terrified more likely. Of what- losing him? He didn't even love him. You couldn't love someone and chain them up like a bad dog. It wasn't possible. "My parents..."

"May come here when they need to see you. I will give you a means to converse with them any time you like. But you will never go to the Aboveground, Toby."

Blue eyes blinked up at him. Jareth longed to reach out a hand and touch that pale honeyed skin. He wanted physical contact, had wanted it for many months now. But was it fair? Knowing what he was, knowing what he knew? No. Toby deserved better. Let the mortal think as he wished; it would only be for ten years at most. Jareth hoped desperately that he could hold on that long. Arradine needed a childhood. He had never had much of one but he wanted his daughter to enjoy hers before she was dragged into an adulthood she wasn't ready for.

So no more kisses.

"To make sure that you do not try to run away," he said softly, "I have asked Lorelei to bring a friend with her. Fiorle will keep you company for as long as you are pregnant and he will care for all your needs when I cannot be there." Which will be almost always, he silently added. "I suppose I should warn you- he is a fairy."

"WHAT?"

Jareth tsked deeply and shook his head. "Do not prejudice yourself against him. He never fought in the wars. He has spent some time travelling the known Underground, and some of the unknown too if Lorelei is to be believed. He is strong and capable too. His orders will be to ensure that you do not leave my Castle without my full knowledge and consent. Besides that, he is yours to do with as you wish."

"But... Jareth, how can you stand there and speak like that? After what you promised me, after all those times you said you cared! Is this caring?" Toby was screaming, shuddering where he stood, unable to move his body because his mind was so numbed by these revelations.

Jareth only looked at him with an indifferent smile with bitter undertones. "You would not understand even if I told you," he dismissed, "How could a mortal understand anything of the Underground?"

The Goblin King vanished out of the room, his book tucked under an arm.


End file.
